THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


, 


EL  RESHID 


A   NOVEL 


ANONYMOUS 


I.os  ANGELED,  CAT.. 

B.    R     BAUMGARDT  &  CO. 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY  D.  P.  HATCH 

OF 
Los  ANGELES,  CAL. 


All  rights  reserved 


THE  FACE 

My  love !  her  eyelids  close, 
So  soft  asleep  is  she — 
A  milk-white  dreaming  rose. 
Her  soul  is  waiting  me. 

Somewhere  in  shoreless  space 
Our  eyes  will  meet  and  part — 
Sweet  rapture  on  her  face, 
And  bliss  within  my  heart. 


1773849 


REGISTERED 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

POEM — "  THE  FACE" 3 

PREFACE 7 

"WHO  AM  I?" 9 

A  STRANGE  MEETING.. 22 

ON  THE  RIAI/TO 33 

THE  JEW 45 

RHEA , 59 

EL  RESHID 75 

OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLES 85 

CAIRO 95 

AT  THE  SITE  OF  MEMPHIS i.o 

HELENS 121 

ON  THE  NILE 133 

KARNAK 144 

C^SAR  CATUS 155 

ARCANA  COELESTIA 167 

A  PROBLEM 173 

A  CANTANKEROUS  OLD  LADY 188 

SALLUS 195 

MYSTERY 206 

SPINO 217 

THE  LIBYAN  SANDS 228 

WHEREFORE 238 

THE  MISSION  OF  ISSACHAR 249 

THE  HEATHEN 260 

THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW 269 

QUICK  ACTION 281 

ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK 290 

A  GRIP  ON  SELF 304 

THE  CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES 312 

THE  FIGHT  Is  ON 321 

THE  PRISONER 327 

FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH 337 

THE  HOUNDS 350 

SATAN 363 

THE  DAWN 397 

FRANCE 406 

THE  SETTING  SUN 414 

VANISHED 419 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  DAMASCUS 422 

THE  MASTER 426 


PREFACE \ 


This  novel  is  founded  upon  the  principle  that  life 
is  the  opposite  of  death.  If  so,  man  only  lives 
when  he  reaches  his  full  self.  His  Nirvanic  poise 
implies  nothing  other  than  that  rapid  motion  which 
a  top  manifests  when  its  spinning  is  too  quick  for 
the  eye. 

The  people  neither  live  to  order,  nor  marry  and 
die  in  conventional  fashion,  nor  are  they  trotted  out 
on  the  stage  at  the  call  of  the  manager  or  the  signal 
of  the  orchestra.  There  is  something  behind  a 
man,  when  he  begins  objective  existence,  other  than 
heredity  and  pedigree. 

Causes  far-reaching  bring  him  occasionally  in  his 
rush  and  battle  with  his  kind  to  a  dead  stop,  and 
whirl  him  about  face,  as  though  he  were  gripped 
by  a  god. 

Over  all  is  Will,  which  is  free  and  sovereign,  and 
which  has  been  the  prime  cause  eternally  of  appar 
ently  irresistable  effects. 


The  story  tells  something  of  the  incipient  stages 
of  the  Master  ;  and  by  the  Master  is  meant  any  one 
who  aspires  to  the  regal  distinction  of  the  posses 
sion  of  power — any  one  who  will  pay  the  price  of 
wisdom,  and  submit  to  the  experience  which  evolves 
understanding. 

El  Reshid  is  a  hard  nut  to  crack  for  these  who 
believe  in  nothing  except  that  which  the  five  senses 
demonstrate  ;  and  a  still  harder  to  the  devotees  of 
the  pseudo  Mahatma,  who  materializes  letters, 
precious  stones  and  roses  on  one  side  of  the  globe, 
while  his  sacred  body  lies  in  a  dead  trance  on  the 
other. 

But  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  book  you  must  open 
it ;  to  pronounce  judgment  you  must  read  it 
through. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WHO   AM   I  ? 

It  was  in  Stamboul;  rain  had  fallen,  and  washed 
the  minarets  and  domes  of  the  mosques,  but  the 
streets  seemed  filthier  than  ever.  Alas!  there  is 
dirt  that  water  exaggerates,  and  Stamboul,  the 
vilest,  yet  fairest  of  cities,  presented  its  dual  aspect 
on  this  rainy  morning,  when  Aleppo  tried  to  disen 
tangle  his  troublesome  locks  of  hair,  after  a  sound 
night's  sleep.  Had  it  been  Edmund  Sallus  Smith 
junior,  we  should  have  said  a  night's  debauch ;  but 
it  was  only  Aleppo,  and  he  had  slept  well  from 
sunset  till  dawn.  His  hair  bothered  him;  it  was 
thick,  long  and  beautiful,  and  knew  little  of  the 
barber;  for  he  never  visited  the  tonsorial  adept, 
unless  driven  by  snarls  and  despair.  The  room 
where  the  young  man  was  so  dexterously  busy, 
was  bare,  and  quite  out  of  order;  in  fact,  a  young 
woman  of  his  age  would  have  rejected  it  in  toto. 
Gloomy,  damp,  upheaved,  with  but  one  thing  of 
beauty  in  it,  and  that  was  the  boy  himself.  He 
was  neither  small  nor  large,  and  his  suppleness  was 
,  evident  in  every  movement  of  his  arm  as  he  criti 
cally  arranged  the  parting  of  his  black  hair  a  little 


10  EL  RESHID 

to  one  side  of  the  right  brow.  The  eyes  that 
looked  back  at  him  from  the  mirror,  were  tender 
yet  bold ;  there  are  some  people  whose  eyes  so  draw 
you  that  you  forget  to  make  discoveries  elsewhere; 
but  Aleppo  was  universally  distinguished.  His 
smile  revealed  perfect  teeth;  and  his  nose  told  a 
tale  of  pedigree,  which  he  had  thus  far  failed  to 
trace. 

Suddenly  he  dropped  his  comb  and  paused  to 
listen. 

"  I  believe  that's  Smith  ;  it  will  be  the  same  old 
thing  over  again,"  and  he  threw  open  the  door 
with  a  commanding  air,  to  let  in  Edmund  Sallus,Jr. 

"Drunk  are  you?"  said  Aleppo  fiercely;  but 
Sal  (this  was  his  pet  name)  was  too  far  gone  to 
speak.  A  look  of  ineffable  scorn  spread  over 
Aleppo's  face;  he  threw  his  companion  with  no 
gentle  hand  on  the  bed,  and  began  to  tug  away  at 
his  boots.  The  task  was  a  hard  one,  but  even 
tually  he  had  him  undressed,  and  undercover ;  then 
he  sighed  heavily  and  tossed  back  his  hair  which 
had  fallen  over  his  brow;  a  habit  of  his. 

"  This  room  is  polluted;  it  is  sacrilege  to  write 
to  her  here;  but  where  else  can  I  go;  it  is  raining, 
Sallus  calls  them  '  great  guns,'  outside." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  have  it;  I'll  open  the  window  and  sit  with 
my  back  to  the  bed;  'tis  the  best  I  can  do." 

To  think  was  to  act.  He  arranged  the  furniture 
of  the  room  with  considerable  noise,  wheeling  up 


WHO   AM    I  11 

a  lame  desk  to  the  window,  which  he  had  thrown 
open  to  the  storm;  then  casting  another  look  on 
Smith  junior,  who  snored  away  unconscious  of 
the  fine  distinction  in  ethics  drawn  by  his  room 
mate,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair  with  his  back 
to  the  bed,  and  sighed  again. 

"  I  haven't  had  my  breakfast  yet,  have  I  ?  But 
what  of  it;  it  will  keep.  I  would  rather  write  to 
her  than  eat." 

He  opened  the  desk;  it  was  in  a  terrible  state. 
Evidently  this  young  man  had  brought  himself  up; 
but  he  found  somewhere  in  the  medley  a  pen, 
paper  and  an  envelope;  then,  uncorking  his  bottle 
of  ink,  he  tossed  back  his  hair  again  and  looked 
out  pathetically  into  the  rain.  It  dashed  in  every 
now  and  then  over  his  face  and  eyes,  giving  him 
the  appearance  of  a  weeping  Romeo,  hopeless  of 
his  love.  Suddenly,  as  if  struck  by  a  lightning 
inspiration,  he  began  to  write;  and  his  pen  made 
the  queerest,  most  unreadable  scrawls  imaginable. 
The  letters,  or  hieroglyphics,  or  whatever  they 
were,  would  be  utterly  untranslatable  to  one  unac 
customed  to  the  tongue  in  which  he  wrote;  so  we 
will  transcribe  them  in  English. 

STAMBOUL,  Thursday. 
My  Dear  Miss  Somebody; 

I  will  write  you  to-day  in  spite  of  everything — 

lack    of  breakfast,   a   rain   storm,   and  a  drunken 

,  chum.     Nothing  can   come  between  you  and  me, 

sweetheart,  not  even  a  bed  fellow  who  snores.     I 


12  EL  RESHID 

hear  him,  and  yet  I  do  not;  instead  I  listen  to  the 
trees  sighing  in  Arcadia,  and  your  singing.  Ah  ! 
love,  how  you  sing  !  Where  are  you  this  minute  ? 
Who  is  so  happy  as  to  hear  you  ?  I  am  jealous  of 
somebody,  somewhere.  But  I  must  keep  my 
promise  to  tell  you  more  about  myself  of  whom  I 
know  nothing.  This  is  literally  true  ;  I  am  with 
out  parents  or  country.  Whether  I  am  oriental  or 
occidental,  of  the  south  or  north,  I  cannot  tell.  I 
have  studied  myself  in  the  glass,  I  have  asked 
others,  but  nobody  knows.  My  eyes  and  hair  are 
so  black  that  I  seem  to  have  hailed  from  the  east, 
but  my  skin  being  white  the  west  can  in  no 
way  deny  me.  Who  am  J,  sweetheart  ?  Even  my 
age  is  unknown  ?  How  can  anybody  tell  ?  I  was 
left,  a  child,  on  the  steps  of  a  hospital;  I  might 
have  been  five,  I  might  have  been  seven.  All  my 
early  years  in  an  asylum  ;  later,  adopted  by  Aunt 
Serena  (so  she  was  called),  who  died  and  left  me 
in  Italy,  in  an  artist's  studio ;  where,  having 
studied  a  few  years,  I  came  into  her  property,  and 
have  been  traveling  ever  since.  Who  knows  my 
exact  age  ?  I  don't. 

Aunt  Serena  never  had  a  lover,  never  in  all  her 
life;  sol  heard.  She  was  wofully  plain;  she  found 
me  in  the  asylum,  and  thought  me  beautiful.  That 
was  years  ago,  remember,  before  I  had  grown 
coarse  and  into  a  man.  She  adopted  me,  and  made 
me  her  heir.  As  I  told  you,  yesterday,  she  was 
not  over  rich,  but  I  have  enough.  She  taught  me 


WHO    AM    I  13 

to  be  frugal,  and  put  me  to  work  in  a  studio,  as  a 
sort  of  apprentice  pupil.  I  loved  Aunt  Serena,  but 
not  as  I  love  you,  dear  one.  I  can  quite  under 
stand  why  she  never  had  a  lover;  but  I  will  tell 
you  of  that  another  day.  How  it  rains  !  Who 
am  I,  sweetheart?  If  I  could  but  find  you,  I  am 
sure  I  should  read  my  history  in  your  eyes.  Yes 
terday  I  met  some  American  girls;  one  of  them,  I 
thought,  for  a  moment,  was  you.  How  pretty  she 
was!  but  when  she  spoke  I  was  disillusioned.  No 
dearest;  she  is  Estelle;  but  where,  are  you? 
That  fellow  on  tha  bed  is  talking  in  his  sleep;  it  is 
raining  harder  than  ever,  and  the  drops  are  drip 
ping  from  my  eyelashes  like  tears;  besides,  I  am 
hungry.  To-morrow  I  will  write  again.  Can  you 
not  answer  me  in  some  way  ?  Shove  a  letter  under 
the  door,  will  you  ?  Toss  it  into  the  window;  or 
mail  it  and  send  by  post.  It's  so  dreadfully  one 
sided  you  see.  If  it  were  not  for  your  singing, 
which  I  am  forever  hearing,  I  should  despair, 
lyook  for  another  to-morrow. 

Your  true,  true  love, 
ALEPPO. 

This  pleasant  task  over,  he  kissed  the  missive 
many  times;  then  enclosing  it  in  an  envelope,  he 
addressed  it  thus  : 

"  Miss  Juliet  Somebody, 

Somewhere." 


EL  RESHID 

He  found  a  box  in  his  desk  where  he  dropped 
the  letter,  among  hundreds  of  others,  all  addressed 
in  the  same  way,  with  the  exception  of  a  change 
in  the  first  name ;  which  seemed  to  vary  periodi 
cally,  like  the  seasons  of  the  year.  On  some  it 
was  "  Miss  Helen,"  on  others  '' Jeannette  ;  "  again, 
"Viola"  and  "Kate,"  but  the  surname  was 
always  "Somebody,"  sacredly  cherished,  and  never 
altered. 

Having  locked  his  desk,  and  deposited  the  key 
in  his  inner  vest  pocket,  he  began  the  most  beau 
tiful  whistling  that  a  boy  of  twenty  or  thereabout 
is  capable  of ;  imitating  every  bird  in  Italy,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  stray  singers  in  Stamboul.  He  tor 
tured  his  debauched  chum,  by  whistling  into  his 
ears;  he  rolled  him  over  and  over  on  the  bed,  and 
whistled  at  the  back  of  his  head  ;  in  fact  so  inun 
dated  him  with  a  rain  of  notes,  that  Sallus  sat  up, 
and  rubbed  his  eyes. 

"Come  on,  get  out  of  this!  Here,  wait  till  I 
give  you  a  douse." 

Aleppo  brought  the  pitcher  of  water,  and  poured 
a  quart  or  more  on  Sallus'  disheveled  head,  regard 
less  of  consequences.  This  seemed  to  wake  him 
and  to  clear  his  liquor-soaked  brain  to  the  fighting 
point.  He  sprang  out  of  bed  in  a  fit  of  rage,  and 
the  two  had  a  hand  to  hand  tussel,  worthy  of  a 
better  cause,  but  Aleppo  pinned  him  at  last,  after 
the  room  had  been  turned  into  bedlam,  and  brought 
him  to  terms.  A  half  hour  later  they  went  arm  in 


WHO    AM   I  15 

arm  to  breakfast,  where  Aleppo  drank  water  and 
filled  Sallus  with  coffee,  strong  and  hot. 

The  sun  came  out  and  re-gilded  the  mosques  of 
Stamboul.  On  the  shores  of  the  Bosporus  the 
beautiful  villa  cities,  new- washed,  appeared  from 
the  distance  like  the  seraglios  of  a  Mohammedan 
heaven,  while  through  the  forests  of  masts  and 
rigging  on  the  Golden  Horn,  were  caught  glimpses 
of  towers  and  turreted  minarets  ;  with  great  and 
little  domes,  intermingled  in  incongruous  prox 
imity,  that  tantalized  the  charmed  eye.  East,  on 
the  promontory  of  Asia,  lay  Scutari,  whose  pink 
houses,  half  buried  in  gardens  and  trees,  would 
indicate,  were  it  not  for  the  cypress  groves,  that 
the  homes  of  the  dead  were  even  more  cheerful  than 
those  of  the  living.  On  the  heights,  one  finds  Asia 
and  Europe  at  his  feet ;  the  sinuous  Bosporus 
rolling  between  ;  and  far  off  in  Bithynia  the  hoary 
head  of  Olympus,  white  with  eternal  snows.  Back 
again  from  grandeur  to  the  glittering  water,  where 
the  caique  glides  in  and  out  among  the  larger  craft, 
with  all  the  grace  of  a  Venetian  gondola,  and  up 
afterward  to  the  sky,  where  the  eyes  are  lifted 
naturally  to  seek  relief  in  simple  azure  from  a  sur 
plus  of  beauty,  that  turns  pleasure  into  pain.  But 
this  is  the  veiled  Byzantium,  draped  with  the  mist 
which  distance  brings.  Asiatic  Rome  on  her  seven 
hills,  is  the  breeder  of  everything,  from  the  pests, 
vermin,  and  horror  of  dirt,  to  the  paradise  of  the 
Hareem.  Here  the  Ottoman  and  the  occidental 


16  EL  RESHID 

races  shake  hands ;  extremes  meet,  and  hell  and 
heaven  have  naught  between  but  a  metaphorical 
Bosporus,  where  they  blend  at  last  in  the  craft- 
laden  Golden  Horn. 

Out  from  the  narrow  streets  Aleppo  dragged  his 
half  dazed  companion,  and  settled  him  at  last  with 
his  back  against  a  grave  stone  in  the  cemetery  of 
Scutari.  The  millions  of  dead  under  the  great 
cypress  trees  made  no  sound,  unless,  in  their 
upward  trend  toward  life,  their  souls  had  entered 
the  moaning  trees,  that  sighed  and  whispered  mys 
teriously,  as  the  wind  stole  in  and  out.  "  Every 
where  were  sculptured  tomb-stones  with  their 
arabesque  carvings.  Aleppo  saw  none  of  them, 
however,  but  stared  in  a  puzzled,  affectionate  way 
at  Sallus.  The  latter  had  thrown  off  his  hat,  half 
closed  his  eyes,  and  looked,  as  he  leaned  against 
the  marble,  like  one  dead.  Aleppo  planted  himself 
firmly  on  his  two  feet  in  front  of  him,  ran  his  hands 
down  into  his  pockets,  tossed  back  his  hair,  with  a 
jerk  of  his  head,  and  began: 

"  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  a  sight  better 
oft  than  I  am  ;  you  know  who  you  are,  and  I  don't ; 
that's  one  thing  in  your  favor  ;  then  you  are  the 
most  deucedly  handsome  cur,  that  I  ever  set  eyes 
on." 

Sallus  winced  a  little  at  this,  and  straightened 
himself  a  bit. 

"You  are  a  downright  beauty  ;  that's  why  I  stay 
by  you  so  close ;  I'd  chase  beauty  across  Siberia, 


WHO    AM    I  17 

or  Hell  for  a  glimpse,  you  know ;  and  here  you  are 
right  in  my  hands — a  veritable  Apollo;  by  jingo  ! 
I  believe  you  are  prettier  drunk  than  sober." 

Here  Sal  sat  upright  and  opened  his  blue  eyes. 

"  I^ook  here  Lep,  for  heaven's  sake  leave  go  that 
slang — "  he  was  thoroughly  roused — "  it's  all  right 
in  me,  but  it's  horrid  in  you  ;  you  got  it  in  pretty 
straight  this  morning,  but  as  a  rule  you  can't  do  it, 
it's  worse  than  an  old  woman  singing." 

Here  be  sank  back  in  a  sort  of  stupor  again,  and 
closed  his  eyes.  Aleppo  was  right,  Sal  was  beauti 
ful,  with  yellow  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a  girl's  cheeks. 
He  might  as  well  have  been  a  young  woman ;  save 
that  for  all  round  dissipation,  and  reckless  immor 
ality,  few  girls,  even  of  the  dance  houses  of  Con 
stantinople  could  compete  with  him.  Aleppo  had 
fallen  in  love  with  Sallus  a  year  before,  and  begged 
him  of  his  distracted  father,  promising  to  make  him 
into  an  angel  in  a  given  time,  provided  they  were 
allowed  to  travel  together.  After  investigation, 
Mr.  Smith,  Sr.,  having  ascertained  that  Aleppo  was 
strictly  abstemious  and  correct,  turned  over  to  him 
his  poor  baggage  of  a  son,  with  a  forlorn  hope, 
that  the  young  man's  influence  would  eventually 
be  beneficial.  The  boys  had  wandered  about 
together  for  six  months,  or  more,  and  on  this  par 
ticular  day  they  _found  themselves  under  the 
cypresses  at  Scutari,  the  preacher  delivering  his 
afternoon  sermon,  and  the  audience  dozing  off  into 
drunken  dreams. 


18  El/  RESHID 

' '  You  see, ' '  said  Aleppo,  ' '  I  can 't  make  head  uor 
feet  out  of  you. "  Here  Sal  roused  himself  again  ; 
"  Let  up  on  that  slang,  I  tell  you,  you  are  going 
wrong  already." 

"Well  then,  head  and  something — it  isn't  any 
fun,  I  want  you  to  understand,  not  a  bit." 

"  I  know  better,"  growled  Sal. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  you  get  that  con 
founded  headache  on  you,  that  makes  you  see 
snakes." 

"  Nonsense  !  you  make  me  tired.  Should  think 
I  would  see  snakes  ;  for  you  everlastingly  take  this 
opportunity,  when  you  know  I  am  not  myself,  to 
drag  me  into  the  grave-yard  and  sermonize.  You 
did  it  in  Paris,  you  did  it  in  Vienna,  and  here  we 
are  again." 

Having  said  this  with  as  much  venom  as  was  in 
him,  he  spat  at  the  tomb-stone  behind  him,  and 
dragging  himself  clear  of  the  sacred  dust,  collapsed 
into  the  grass  near  by. 

"There's  nothing  like  a  cemetery  to  point  a 
moral — "  and  Aleppo  showed  his  beautiful  teeth  in 
one  of  the  rarest  smiles,  that  the  human  face  is 
capable  of — "  for  my  part,  I  like  it.  Here  am 
I  in  Asia  with  the  dead ;  I  feel  wonderfully  at 
home  ;  don't  you  Sal  ?  " 

"Y-e-s,"  drawled  Sal,  who  had  reached  the 
pathetic  stage.  He  rolled  and  lighted  a  cigarette 
with  trembling  fingers,  then  lying  flat  on  his  back, 
blew  clouds  of  smoke  at  the  patches  of  sky,  which 


WHO    AM   I  19 

he  saw  between  the  interlaced  trees.  His  eyes 
were  as  blue  as  heaven  ;  and  two  tears  gathered  in 
them  which  he  immediately  became  ashamed  of, 
and  attributed  to  the  smoke. 

"Now  look  here  Sal" — Aleppo  had  seen  the 
tears,  though  he  made  no  sign ;  for  he  loved  this 
bad  boy  to  the  point  of  sacrifice — "  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do  " — the  words  came  out  with  difficulty, 
for  he  felt  that  he  was  choking — "  you  go  a  week 
without  touching  the  stuff,  or  lighting  yourself  up, 
and  I'll  promise  you  on  the  Koran  and  the  Bible, 
that  I'll  go  on  one  of  the  most  hell-inspiring  sprees 
with  you,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  that  the  devil 
ever  dreamed  of.  You  will  find  yourself  nowhere  ; 
I'll  drink  more  and  sin  more  in  one  day  than  you 
can  in  a  month  ;  upon  my  word  and  honor  I  will  ; 
that  is,  if  you  say  so.  "  Look  here  Sal  " — and  he 
gave  him  a  punch  on  the  shoulder  that  made  him 
wince  — "  will  you  do  it  "  ?  Sal  sat  up — he  was  as 
sober  as  a  desert  owl,  and  as  solemn — "I'll  be 
d dif  I  do!  " 

"  What  of  that?  two  of  us  in  hell  are  better  than 
one.  Let's  be  sober  together  for  a  week,  pious  and 
everything,  then  go  to  the  other  place." 

' '  Now  you  just  shut  up  on  this."  Sal  got  on  his 
feet  and  shook  himself,  somewhat  after  the  manner 
of  a  dog  that  scents  danger. 

"  I'm  one  of  the  devil's  own,  any  how  ;  but  as 
for  you  talking  slang,  and  wallowing,  you  shan't; 
that's  just  all  there  is  of  it,  do  you  see  ?  " 


20  EL  RESHID 

He  pulled  off  his  coat  ;  and  any  delusion  one 
might  have  harbored  about  his  feminine  incapacity 
and  like  stuff,  must  have  vanished  at  sight  of  his 
muscle  and  brawn.  American,  pretty  and  dudish 
in  face,  herculean  in  form,  he  was  about  as  fine  an 
animal  as  one  often  gets  a  chance  to  gaze  at. 

"Now  it  don't  make  one  straw's  difference 
whether  you  are  in  earnest  or  not,  (the  man  had 
woke  up  in  him)  you  shan't  carry  it  out,  that's  all ; 
but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do," — here  he  took  in 
a  long  breath,  as  if  to  wash  his  soul  clean — "I'll 
let  you  see  that  I  can  go  a  week  in  spite  of  the 
painted  faces  of  Constantinople  ;  but  on  one  con 
dition — you  listen  now,  the  tables  are  turned,  you 
see.  You've  just  got  to  quit  that  slang  business; 
it  grates  on  my  nerves,  worse  than  Oriental  music. 
Promise  me,  that  you  will  give  me  back  the  slang 
dictionary  and  the  concert  songs,  and  I'll  swear  on 
this  tombstone,  that  I'll  go  sober  for  a  week." 

Aleppo  squeezed  the  tears  that  were  welling  up, 
back  into  his  eyes,  delicately  arranged  his  hair,  in 
fact  made  great  show  of  hesitancy,  but  at  last  con 
descended  to  speak. 

"Well  I  suppose  I'll  have  to,  for  a  week." 

•'  Not  much,  for  a  week,  but  forever." 

"  Forever"  ? 

"  Yes,  forever;  do  you  suppose,  if  /  had  a  Miss 
Somebody  to  whom  I  wrote  love  letters  every  day, 
as  you  do,  do  you  suppose,  that  instead  of 
absolutely  knowing  that  I  was  the  son  of  an 


WHO    AM    I  21 

American  stock-raiser,  that,  on  the  contrary,  I  had 
the  chance  of  surmising  that  I  might  be  a  wander 
ing  prince  in  disguise,  do  you  suppose  that  if  I 
were  you,  I  would  foul  my  tongue  with  swear  words 
and  slang  !" 

To  be  preached  to  by  Sal,  gave  Aleppo  a  thrill 
that  was  almost  intoxicating  ;  besides  his  allusion 
to  Miss  Somebody  held  him  to  the  cypress  tree 
against  which  he  was  leaning,  as  though  he  had 
been  welded  there.  Sal  was  king,  and  he  a 
mortified,  Constantinople  cur.  But  this  passed  off: 
he  pulled  himself  together,  and  looking  the  blonde 
beauty  straight  in  the  eyes,  said  smiling,  "  It's 
agreed  ;  now  for  dinner." 

"Wait  a  bit. ;  you  don't  expect  that  I'm  going 
around  with  this  stuff  in  my  pocket  do  you  ?  " 

He  pulled  a  brandy  flask  from  the  depths  and 
laid  it  with  some  dignity  on  the  adjacent  grave  ; 
then  a  dozen  or  more  cigarettes,  and  a  package  of 
tobacco. 

"  There,  if  that  corpse  gets  dry  and  nervous,  it 
has  its  chance.  Remember  L,ep,  it's  only  for  a 
week,  sabe  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  s —  -  understand." 

"There,  you  saved  yourself  this  time  but  your 
promise  is  eternal.  See  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  Is comprehend." 

"  Come  on  then." 

Sal  led  the  way  and  Aleppo  followed  in  a  strange 
frame  of  mind  ;  the  kingly  American  bad  got  in  his 


22  EL  RESHID 

work  ;  and  the  man  without  country  or  name,  went 
after  him,  as  the  great  St.  Bernard  follows  its 
master. 


CHAPTER  II. 
A   STRANGE  MEETING. 

A  woman,  whose  age  it  would  be  impossible  to 
determine,  but  about  whose  beauty  there  was  no 
shadow  of  doubt,  came  out  of  the  Vienna  Opera 
House,  and  made  her  way  rapidly  toward  the  car 
riage  in  waiting  at  the  entrance.  She  stopped  sud 
denly,  as  if  transfixed,  and  stared  wildly  into  a 
pair  of  eyes,  that  answered  her's  with  a  similar  look; 
then  the  heads  of  the  two  were  bowed  with  con 
ventional  courtesy,  and  the  apparent  strangers 
passed  each  other  as  though  they  had  never  met 
before.  The  man  (for  the  eyes  that  brought  the 
widow — Madame  Cressey — to  a  sudden  halt,  were 
masculine  and  stern)  turned  rapidly  on  his  heel 
and  proceeded  in  an  opposite  direction  from  that 
in  which  he  had  been  going,  plunging  into  a  side 
street,  and  thence  into  the  dark.  She,  however, 
cold  as  ice,  climbed  somehow  into  her  carriage,  and 
fell  back  among  the  cushions  in  a  dead  faint. 
When  the  coachman  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  her 
hotel,  she  made  no  attempt  to  alight,  in  fact  knew 
nothing,  and  had  to  be  lifted  out  and  taken  to  her 
room.  It  was  late  at  night,  under  the  min- 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  23 

istrations  of  her  physician,  before  she  understood 
who  she  was  and  where.  On  the  contrary,  Hen 
rique  Romanes  seemed  to  be  fired  with  the 
strongest  cordial  that  the  grape  could  produce;  for, 
having  found  his  room,  and  locked  his  door,  he 
walked  the  floor  till  morning  in  a  fury  of  excite 
ment,  utterly  inconsistent  with  his  correct  conven 
tional  dress  and  hotel  surroundings.  His  face 
spoke  power,  even  in  its  frenzy,  and  the  very  wild- 
ness  of  the  storm  now  blowing  over  him,  implied 
an  oncoming  calm,  which  must  later  be  formid 
able.  At  daylight  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed, 
and  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  which  lasted  until  late 
in  the  afternoon ;  when  he  awoke  he  was  obliged 
to  make  some  effort  to  collect  himself.  As  the 
memories  of  the  preceding  evening  thrust  them 
selves  upon  him,  a  spasm  of  pain  knit  his  brow 
into  a  fierce  scowl ;  but  it  passed,  and  a  fixed  look 
took  its  place,  which  set  his  features,  as  though  in 
marble.  It  was  not,  however,  the  repose  of  inde 
cision  ;  it  spoke  determination  and  power.  Dress 
ing  hastily,  without  aid  of  a  valet,  he  seated  him 
self  before  the  window,  where  the  afternoon  light 
flooded  his  stern  countenance,  and  took,  from  a 
concealed  pocket  over  his  heart,  a  worn  and  faded 
letter.  His  face  grew  a  shade  whiter,  and  his  eyes 
more  intense,  if  that  could  be,  as  he  touched  it ; 
otherwise  he  showed  no  emotion.  It  ran  thus: 

"Farewell!     If  misery    can  be   condensed,  it  is 
included  in   this   word;  if  sorrow  can  be  told,  it  is 


24  EL  RESHID 

spoken  now.  Farewell!  O,  tell  me,  can  it  be,  that 
we  who  have  loved  for  love's  own  sake,  that  we 
who  have  defied  the  world,  and  even  God,  that 
we  must  part.  I  could  not  have  dreamed  it;  I 
could  not  have  believed  it ;  but  the  bitter  fact 
stands.  Fate  forced  us  together,  and  wrenches  us 
asunder.  Fate!  We  are  masters  of  nothing;  the 
wind  blew  the  pollen  to  the  flower,  and  tore  it  to 
pieces. 

' '  I  care  for  naught  in  the  universe  but  you.  Alas ! 
the  one  out  of  the  innumerable,  that  I  love,  is  sent 
adrift.  I  neither  drown  myself  in  illusions,  nor 
drug  my  heart  with  hopeless  dreams;  boldly  I  face 
the  fact.  I  love  you,  I  love  you!  May  the  sin  in 
which  I  glory  be  mine  forever.  I  shed  no  tears  on 
my  rebellious  heart,  nor  do  I  wring  my  hands  and 
supplicate  an  unseen  God.  On  the  black  night  of 
myself,  one  star  gleams  fiercely,  eternally — the  star 
of  Love.  Forever,  fare  you  well !  " 

To  this  scrap  of  paper,  from  which  age  had 
failed  to  tear  the  passion,  there  was  signed  no 
name.  It  was  written  in  a  bold,  almost  masculine 
hand,  interspersed  with  dashes;  and  had  been  read 
and  folded  so  often  that  it  was  cracked  and  worn. 
The  date  took  it  back  many  years  to  a  former 
generation,  though  Henrique  Romanes  looked 
scarcely  thirty-five.  His  chin  was  powerful  and 
firm;  his  eyes  keen,  mysterious,  dark;  his  face 
clean  shaven-,  his  hair  black,  and  his  frame  slight, 
but  well  knit.  Altogether,  he  would  seem  to  have 


A  STRANGK  MEETING  25 

scarcely  reached  his  prime,  were  it  not  for  a  certain 
air  that  betrayed  a  depth  of  experience,  undis- 
coverable  in  youth.  Age  is  betrayed  by  a  certain 
flabbiness  of  the  tissue  and  skin.  Romanes  had 
hard  flesh,  tense  muscles,  and  the  erect  carriage  of 
a  man  of  thirty,  while  the  depths  of  shade  that 
lay  under  his  eyes,  spoke  of  feeling,  rather  than 
years.  There  was  one  thing  quite  out  of  the  ordi 
nary  about  this  man,  and  which  stamped  him  as  of 
different  coin  from  the  jingling  mass.  He  made 
you  feel  his  personality.  To  pass  him  in  a  crowd 
was  to  turn  your  head  ;  to  touch  his  hand  was  to 
receive  an  electric  shock;  to  glance  in  his  eye  was 
to  wilt  as  does  the  morning  glory  in  the  sun;  to 
enter  a  room  where  he  had  been,  was  to  realize  his 
presence  still.  To  some  he  brought  pain,  to  others 
pleasure,  but  to  all  a  consciousness  of  himself.  In 
plain  speech,  he  looked  like  a  fallen  eagle,  that 
had  dragged  its  wings  in  the  dust. 

He  was  a  long  time  reading  the  letter ;  save  his 
eyes,  he  showed  no  sign  of  especial  interest;  but 
they,  as  he  pierced  the  very  paper  with  their 
glance,  took  on  a  new  fire,  and  flashed  with  the 
glow  of  self-illuminating  stars.  He  folded  it  at 
last,  and  laid  it  again  over  his  heart,  then,  after 
striding  the  room  once  or  twice,  rang  for  coffee, 
which  he  took,  black  and  hot,  with  a  crust  of 
bread.  Consulting  his  watch,  he  ordered  a  car 
riage,  and  shortly  after  left  the  house.  He  directed 


26  EL  RESHID 

the  driver  in  a  positive  way,  addressing  him  in  the 
German  tongue. 

Several  hours  later,  at  about  nine  in  the  evening, 
he  alighted  at  a  certain  well  known  hotel  in  Vienna, 
and  demanded  audience  with  Madame  Cressey. 
He  was  informed  that  the  lady  was  ill  and  could 
see  no  one.  Romanes,  not  the  least  perturbed, 
turned  his  back  a  moment,  and  drawing  a  pack  of 
playing  cards  from  his  pocket,  from  which  he 
extracted  the  ace  of  hearts,  inclosed  it  in  a  small 
envelope,  and  ordered  it  delivered  to  her  at  once. 
In  a  short  time  the  messenger  returned,  with  a 
similar  missive,  on  which  was  written  the  word, 
"Aleppo."  "Conduct  me  immediately,"  said 
Romanes.  The  boy  rushed  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  Madame 's  apartments,  as  if  his  life  hung  on  their 
quick  arrival,  and  Romanes  followed  with  a  digni 
fied  speed,  that  savored  as  much  of  indifference  as  of 
haste.  The  door  of  Helene  Cressey 's  salon  swung 
back  noiselessly  at  his  approach,  and  was  closed 
again  after  his  entrance,  as  though  muffled  in  felt. 
The  two  stood  face  to  face  beneath  the  shaded 
light  of  the  chandelier,  and  looked  once  more  with  a 
half  startled,  half  defiant  expression  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

"  You  have  broken  your  vow,  Romanes." 
"  Pardon,  Helene,  it  was  not  I,  but  that  which 
you  term  fate.     We  had  promised   never   to   meet 
again,  but  our  childish  vows  were  scorned,    our 
word  of  honor  broken,  for  us  last  night." 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  27 

"  Are  we  in  truth  such  puppets?  "  said  she,  with 
a  sneer. 

In  reply,  he  held  her  letter  before  her  blazing 
eyes. 

"  Fate  forced  us  together  and  wrenches  us  asun 
der — fate ! 

"  We  are  masters  of  nothing." 

As  she  read,  she  grew  whiter,  if  possible,  and 
colder. 

"Read,"  he  said  sternly,  "every  word." 

She  became  more  rigid,  as  her  eyes  turned  the 
words  into  symbols  of  fire.  At  last,  she  hissed 
between  her  teeth,  while  steadying  herself  by  the 
table,  "Cruel!  " 

' '  No,  nor  kind, "  said  Romanes.  "  It  is  twenty- 
five  years  since  this  letter  was  written.  You  are  as 
young  in  feeling  as  when-  you  penned  it,  and  so  am 
I.  You  have  known  me  to  some  purpose,  Helene 
Cressey ;  she  who  weds  an  Olympian  is  endowed 
with  eternal  youth." 

"  Words  are  but  will-o'-the-wisps,  when  the  heart 
speaks,"  she  answered,  then  burst  into  a  storm  of 
sobs,  and  sank  into  a  chair,  completely  mastered  by 
the  frenzy  of  her  sorrow. 

With  the  alteration  of  mood,  his  changed  also. 
He  sank  at  her  feet,  and,  taking  her  hand,  held  it 
caressingly  to  his  lips.  In  time  she  grew  calm,  for 
he  dried  her  tears.  Then  mixing  a  drug,  which 
he  discovered  upon  the  table,  he  brought  her  the 
"glass  and  ordered  her  to  drink.  A  very  child  in 


28  EL  RESHID 

his  hands,  she  obeyed,  when,  drawing  a  long  sigh, 
as  though  with  it  she  had  thrown  off  the  incubus 
of  a  score  of  years,  she  leaned  back  upon  the  cush 
ions  and  looked  trustfully  into  his  eyes.  He  drew 
a  chair  to  her  side,  and  spoke,  as  would  a  man  of 
the  world.  "  Helene,  we  will  drop  tragedy  now 
and  talk  with  calmness.  The  subject  which 
demands  our  utmost  attention  is  vital.  First,  let 
me  say,  that  neither  of  us  would  have  broken  our 
vow,  which  we  signed  jointly,  years  ago,  had  not 
Fate  pushed  us,  like  two  wandering  meteors, 
together,  and  mingled  us  once  more  into  one  ;  and 
by  Fate,  you  know  that  I  mean  the  Powers  that 
are.  Well  then,  you  see,"  and  he  tossed  his  hair 
back  in  a  peculiar  way,  "  there  can  be  but  one  sub 
ject  between  us  now,  and  that  is  Aleppo." 

At  the  mention  of  this  name  Helene  shivered, 
but  remained  dumb ;  looking  into  the  fathomless 
depths  of  Romanes'  eyes. 

"Yes,  Aleppo,  who  is  he,  and  where?"  And 
Helene  answered,  in  a  half-whisper,  as  though  her 
word  were  an  echo,  "  Where  ?  " 

"That  we  must  ascertain,"  said  Romanes 
emphatically. 

"  I  thought,"  said  she,  "  that  we  had  agreed  to 
remember  him  as  one  dead." 

"  True,  but  on  condition  that  we  considered  each 
other  in  the  same  way;  our  coming  together  makes 
the  finding  of  our  son  imperative." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Helene, 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  29 

"And  more,"  said  Romanes,  who  rose  and 
paced  the  room  rapidly,  "he  must  be  what  his 
father  was  not ;  he  must  succeed  where  I  have 
failed.  Our  lives  must  be  given,  from  now  on,  not 
to  each  other,  but  to  him,  at  any  cost.  Do  you 
understand,  Helene,  at  any  cost."  He  looked  her 
straight  in  the  face,  she  met  his  gaze  boldly,  and 
replied  in  the  affirmative,  in  the  same  far-off  voice 
in  which  she  had  been  speaking  for  some  time. 

"Tell  me  exactly,"  said  he,  drawing  his  chair  still 
closer  to  her  side,  "all  that  occurred  after  we 
parted,  in  regard  to  Aleppo."  She  remained  silent 
for  some  time,  then  began  talking  as  if  she  were  in 
a  dream. 

"  The  nurse,  Edena,  kept  him  from  the  hour  of 
his  birth,  till  she  vanished  with  him,  as  I  bade  her 
do,  seventeen  years  ago.  No  mortal  but  Edena 
and  yourself  connects  Aleppo  in  any  way  with  me, 
except,"  she  drew  a  long  breath,  "  except  Jacob 
the  Jew." 

"What!"  Romanes  sprang  from  the  chair. 
"  Jacob  the  Jew  ?  "  He  fairly  hissed  the  words. 

"  I  had  no  other  means,"  said  Helene  defiantly, 
"  I  knew  he  would  be  secret,  and  the  work  had  to  be 
done." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Romanes. 

' '  I  had  never  seen  the  boy  until  the  day  before 
Edena's  departure,  when  she  brought  him  to  me  in 
the  Swiss  Mountains.  Here,  Jacob,  by  appoint- 
"ment,  arrived  also;  when  the  sign  of  the  Order  was 


30  Ely  RESHID 

burnt  into  his  back,  just  over  the  left  shoulder 
blade." 

"Was  it  clear-cut?  " 

"  Perfectly;  so  said  Jacob,  though  I  had  no  heart 
to  look." 

"  Helene,  you  have  made  a  fatal  blunder  ;  first, 
intrusting  this  task  to  Jacob;  second,  in  not  scru 
tinizing  the  sign  yourself,  Aleppo  undoubtedly 
has  a  mystic  symbol  tattooed  upon  his  back ;  but 
what  the  symbol  is,  is  of  vital  importance,  however 
let  it  pass.  We  have  no  means  of  proving  the 
identity  of  our  son  save  by  this  scar.  If  we  suc 
ceed,  it  will  be,  I  fear,  through  the  diabolical 
assistance  of  Jacob  the  Jew.  Is  he  still  alive  ?  " 

"He  is,"  said  Helene,  scornfully;  "  He  will 
never  die  ;  I  saw  him  but  a  month  since  on  the 
Rialto."  Romanes  began  his  tireless  walk  again. 

"  Did  you  give  Edena  instructions  as  to  what  to 
do  with  the  boy?  " 

"  None,  whatever,  she  begged  him  of  me,  and 
promised  that  she  would  educate  and  start  him  in 
life.  The  large  sum  which  you  had  handed  to  me 
for  that  purpose  was  given  over  to  her,  and  from 
what  I  know  of  her  in  the  past,  I  am  sure  she  ful 
filled  her  trust. ' ' 

' '  And  you  never  saw  Aleppo  but  once  ?  ' ' 

"  But  once  ;  at  the  time  the  brand  was  made. " 

"  His  eyes,  his  hair,  what  color  ?  "  Romanes 
walked  faster  and  faster. 

"Black,"    said  Helene,  in   a  still  more  dreamy 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  31 

tone.  "He  had  a  trick  like  yours,  of  tossing  his 
hair  from  his  brow  by  a  shake  of  his  head." 

"Even  then!" 

"Yes,"  said  Helene.  She  had  gone  back  into 
the  past,  until  her  present  surroundings  had  utterly 
vanished;  her  eyes  were  closed,  and  her  face, 
white  as  snow,  caught  the  attention  of  Romanes, 
and  brought  him  to  a  sudden  halt.  The  years 
had  left  no  mark  on  her.  Her  hair,  of  a  reddish 
gold,  was  abundant,  and  of  the  fluffy  kind,  that 
makes  still  softer  a  soft  face.  Her  complexion, 
extremely  fair,  was  relieved,  as  a  rule,  by  a  flush 
in  the  cheeks,  giving  her  the  coloring  of  a  pink 
pearl;  though  to-night  all  glow  had  left  it  and  a 
deathly  pallor  had  taken  its  place.  Her  eyes  had 
the  gleam  of  amber,  and  her  features,  while 
scarcely  of  the  Greek  type,  were  refined  and  youth 
ful.  Altogether  she  was  fair,  fair ;  and  Romanes 
gazed  at  her  in  wonder.  Then,  turning  shortly, 
he  walked  resolutely  away,  and  knit  his  brows. 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on,  and  she  heard,  "  it  will 
be  difficult  ;  perhaps  impossible.  He  may  be  dead.' ' 
She  moved  no  muscle.  "However,  we  two  must 
give  our  lives,  every  hour,  to  the  undertaking  ; 
shall  we  begin  now  ?  ' ' 

He  reached  his  hand  to  Helene. 

"  Do  you  love  this  boy?"  She  drew  a  long 
sigh  and  came  suddenly  to  herself,  as  though  out 
of  a  dream ;  then  sat  erect,  and  opened  her  eyes 
"which  beamed  on  him  like  fiery  stars. 


32  EL  RESHID 

"I  do  riot ;  why  should  I  ?"  He  has  stood 
between  you  and  me,  since  first  his  little  heart  began 
to  beat  beneath  my  own  ;  he  drove  you  to  the  south 
and  me  to  the  north  ;  he  divided  us  by  continents, 
by  seas,  he  stole  in  upon  an  ideal  love,  and  painted 
it  black.  He  wrenched  the  sign  of  the  order  from 
you,  and  tossed  it  into  the  Bosporus ;  he  degraded 
your  powers  till  you  lay  prone  in  the  dust,  a  fallen 
giant.  He  drove  me  an  exile  to  the  Swiss  Mountains, 
and  fouled  my  tongue  with  lies.  And  now,  when 
we  were  getting  upon  our  feet,  he  comes  again  to 
intrude  between  us,  |ind  hold  us  apart."  Sfle 
towered  over  Romanes  ;  the  negative  had  become 
positive,  the  poles  had  shifted — he  bowed  his  head. 
"  Yes,"  she  went  on  in  the  same  impassioned  tone, 
"  in  spite  of  my  unnatural  hate,  in  spite  of  the 
sacrifice  which  he  entails,  in  spite  of  age  and 
death,  I  will  seek  and  find  Aleppo  Romanes,  and 
restore  him  to  his  own."  Henrique  lifted  his  eyes, 
his  face  beamed  with  admiration  and  awe. 

"  Helene  Cressey,  you  are  great.  No  one  can 
understand  why  I  say  this,  except  ourselves.  In 
taking  such  a  step,  all  that  which  we  have  struggled 
to  obtain  is  given  up  ;  certain  powers,  which  we 
have  acquired,  are  sacrificed  ;  life  is  laid  down. 
Fate  you  claim  is  powerful;  our  wills,  I  have  reason 
to  know,  are  more  so ;  yet  in  spite  of  this  we  yield, 
and  shackle  ourselves  " — He  stopped  abruptly — 
"  what  must  we  do  ?  " 

"  Part." 


ON   THE  RIAI/TO  33 

"And  then?  " 

"Search;  you  in  your  way,  I  in  mine.  Who 
ever  succeeds,  notifies  the  other  and  we  meet.  Till 
then  adieu."  He  hesitated  a  moment  ;  but  in  her 
face  was  an  unalterable  determination.  He  swayed 
slightly,  as  a  sapling  does,  that  has  lost  its  support; 
she  stood  erect  like  a  granite  shaft ;  then  backing 
slowly  toward  the  entrance,  keeping  his  eyes 
intently  fixed  on  hers,  he  left  the  room.  The  door 
closed  silently  after  him,  and  the  instant  it  was  shut, 
Helene  turned  out  the  light.  The  darkness  could  be 
felt,  as  it  sometimes  is,  when  a  pall  is  drawn  over 
the  stars  of  heaven,  and  the  moon.  . 


CHAPTER  III. 

ON  THE  RIAI/TO. 

Aleppo  and  Sallus  were  on  the  Rialto,  stopping 
now  and  then  to  dicker  with  a  shop  keeper,  and 
pushing  ahead  later,  to  catch  up  with  "the 
philosopher."  This  unique  individual,  captured 
by  Aleppo  the  second  day  after  Sallus'  reform,  had 
remained  with  the  young  men  ever  since.  He  was 
long-visaged,  slim  and  brown,  with  a  shrewd  eye 
which  might  have  graced  any  other  Yankee  ;  but 
his  chief  charm  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  could  talk, 
and  touch  up  his  word  paintings  with  as  much 
pessimistic  bile,  as  could  any  old  cynic  of  ancient 
times.  He  had  more  venomous  wisdom  than 


34  EL  RESHID 

Diogenes  himself,  and  rivaled  all  the  iconoclasts 
that  ever  were  born,  in  his  power  to  upset  precon 
ceived  ideas,  and  overthrow  castles  in  the  air. 
With  all,  he  was  clean  and  square,  and  reached  the 
skeleton  of  truth  straightway,  having  no  respect 
for  her  veils  nor  her  varnish.  His  name  was  Regan 
with  a  Patrick  attached,  for  Aleppo  and  Sallusused 
his  surname  as  a  fixed  thing,  adding  on  the  other 
when  it  came  to  their  minds.  The  three  got  over 
the  Rialto  at  last,  and  later  on,  established  comfort 
ably  in  a  gondola,  prepared  to  enjoy  themselves. 
Their  method  of  doing  this  was  peculiar ;  in  fact 
for  the  last  ten  days,  since  their  flight  from  Stam- 
boul,  the  boys  had  done  scarce  else  than  listen, 
while  Regan,  with  a  piece  of  tobacco  tucked  safely 
under  his  tongue,  did  nothing  but  talk.  To  be 
sure,  the  young  men  interrupted  with  questions 
continuously,  but  aside  from  that  they  were  all  ears. 
When  young  fellows  get  hold  of  such  a  disciple 
of  realism  as  was  Regan,  who  proceeds  to  unmask 
everything,  they  are  aged  forthwith.  Whether 
this  is  good  or  bad  for  them  is  not  in  the  question  ; 
they  are  as  fascinated  as  is  the  green  medical 
student  in  possession  of  his  first  ' '  stiff. ' ' 

"  You  see,"  said  Regan,  spitting  tobacco  juice 
as  far  as  he  could  send  it  into  the  blue  water,  ' '  You 
see,  Venice  did  the  best  she  could  to  commit 
suicide;  I  suppose  you  know  that  Aleppo?  " 

The  young  man  had  been  gazing  on  the  bright 
scene  with  the  eye  of  an  artist. 


ON   THE  RIALTO  35 

"  She  is  a  dream,"  he  answered. 

"  Yes,  she  is  pretty  fancy,"  and  he  sent  his 
second  fire  of  tobacco  juice  at  the  water  on  the 
other  side,  "but  she  is  nothing  to  what  she  was, 
nothing." 

"  What  was  she?  "  demanded  Sallus. 

"  A  good  deal;  you  see  it's  the  way  with  cities  ; 
they  reach  their  prime  and  their  decay.  There  is  no 
use  in  pretending  that  you  can  perpetuate  a  city  or  a 
government,  for  you  can't.  Eternity  is  a  long  time; 
its  forever.  See?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sallus. 

' '  Now,  this  pretty  place  about  which  poets  tear 
their  hair  and  painters  rave,  this  place  is  dead." 

"  Don't  look  much  like  it,"  said  Sallus,  "they 
ship  enough  glass  beads  from  it  each  year  to  delude 
all  the  darkies  in  Africa,  besides  it's  a  Mecca ;  you 
know  very  well,  it's  a  Mecca." 

' '  When  a  former  seat  of  government  and  a 
medieval  center  has  degenerated  into  a  Mecca, 
mark  my  word,  boy,  it  is  dead. 

"  Venezia  la  bella,"  sighed  Aleppo. 

"But  what  of  the  Venice  of  the  Crusades?" 
answered  Regan  ;  "  born  of  mud  and  crystalized  in 
marble ;  foremost  among  the  states  of  Europe, 
unassailable  in  locality,  stuffed  with  gold,  embanked 
with  granite,  and  tied,  island  to  island,  with  four 
hundred  bridges ;  the  center  of  art,  unrivaled  in 
-the  world."  He  smiled,  and  showed  a  complete 
and  even  set  of  slightly  discolored  teeth.  His 


86  EL,  RESHID 

noiseless  laugh  implied  an  immense  deal  about  to 
be  revealed,  which  would  completely  disillusion 
any  fanatic,  who  looked  upon  Venice  as  other  than 
a  corpse,  over  which  the  scum  of  humanity  crept, 
in  its  ceaseless  trot  around  the  world. 

"  As  I  said,"  went  on  Regan,  "  she  was  in  at 
her  own  death  ;  although  her  case,  as  regards  lon 
gevity  was  hopeless  even  had  she  had  no  hand  in 
it,  you  see  ?  "  He  was  fond  of  saying,  "  you  see. " 
"Foremost  in  geographical  research,  she  helped  to 
circumnavigate  Africa,  and  find  the  New  World ; 
the  discovery  of  which  took  away  the  great  com 
mercial  value  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  Venice 
died,  you  see." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sallusbut  she  is  coming  to  life." 
"A  sort  of  an  electrified  corpse;"  observed 
Regan,  rolling  his  tobacco  into  his  cheek,  "  to  be 
sure  it  looks  a  little  more  lively  than  in  1840,  when 
it  was  down  to  a  hundred  thousand,  and  the  grass 
grew  in  the  squares.  It  has  a  new  bridge,  its  skies 
are  way  up,  just  as  they  used  to  be,  its  climate  is 
tip-top,  and  its  palaces  for  which  those  old  larch 
forests  gave  their  lives,  that  the  city  might  have 
legs  to  stand  on,  still  set  the  Ruskins  singing 
requiems  and  psalms.  In  spite  of  her  hundred 
and  seventeen  islands,  her  hundred  and  fifty 
canals  and  three  hundred  and  fifty  bridges,  Rivo 
Alto  is  dead.  To  be  sure,  she  has  her  Moorish- 
Italian  architecture,  her  Rialto  over  the  Grand 
Canal,  her  masterpieces  of  Titian,  Tintoretto  and 


ON   THE  RIAIvTO  3?      • 

Paul  Veronese  ;  to  be  sure  she  has  her  tourists' 
hotels,  and  her  modern  gondola,  nevertheless  she  is  a 
shrine  ;  and  to  find  this  out  we  must  go  backward 
in  years  and  behold  her  alive."  He  paused  again 
to  cut  off  more  tobacco,  and  the  young  men, 
enthralled,  sat  speechless. 

"  Well  then,  there  was  a  time,  when  she  stole 
marble  and  porphyries,  like  a  first-class  thief,  from 
Rome,  from  Byzantium,  from  the  ruined  cities  of 
Heraclea,  Altinum  and  Aquilea,  indirectly  also  from 
Numidia,  Egypt  and  Arabia — all  kinds  of  treasures, 
as  you  have  ample  chance  to  see  yet  on  the  palaces — 
red  porphyry  from  Egypt,  green  from  Mount  I<ay- 
getus,  ancient  granites,  alabaster,  Phrygian  pavon- 
azzetto,  and  the  amber-blue  proscenium.  The  col 
umns  of  the  ancients  were  sawed  up  and  turned 
into  mosaics  ;  besides  these,  look  at  the  gold  and 
silver,  and  the  famous  ultramarine.  But  let  me 
tell  you,  it's  all  shoddy,  every  bit,  and  nobody  pre 
tends  it  isn't;  it's  a  thin  coating  of  veneer,  nothing 
more;  look  inside  Saint  Mark's.  See? 

"  But,"  interrupted  Sallus  as  though  roused  out 
of  a  dreain,  "  Venice  is  the  second  commercial  city 
to-day,  in  Italy." 

"  Don't  care  if  she  is,  nor  the  first ;  she  isn't  the 
city  of  the  Middle  Ages,  I  can  tell  you,  by  a  long 
shot.  Places  have  a  rhythm  as  sure  as  the  sea  has ; 
perhaps  she  will  rise  again,  but  'twon't  be  Venice. 
.  L,ook  at  those  ugly  iron  bridges,  and  that  steam 
engine.  The  genius  of  the  Nineteenth  Century 


3S  EL  RESHID 

rides  rough-shod  over  tesselated  pavements,  and 
erects  suspension  bridges  where  Rialtos  ought  to  be. 
There's  no  use  talking,  the  dunes  of  the  Doge 
and  the  Council  have  gone  under  ;  and  a  cross 
between  a  mechanic  and  a  water  swan  has  brought 
forth  something  with  a  new  motive,  and  a  modern 
name  " — here  he  smiled  again.  "  Yes,  I  tell  you 
she's  dead;  she  has  quit  stealing,  she  has  stopped 
conquering  and  overhauling,  she  is  too  good  to  be 
alive;  her  game  is  up." 

"  But  the  beauty  of  her  !  "  said  Aleppo. 

"She  is  pretty  enough,  no  doubt ;  so  is  a  corpse, 
if  you  paint  and  powder  it,  and  get  up  a  modern 
two-step  fantastic  in  the  near  vicinity.  Why  even 
this  gondola  is  a  new-fangled  institution  ;  the  thing 
they  used  to  have  is  as  black  as  an  old  man 's  hearse, 
however  ' ' — here  he  smiled  once  more. 

Aleppo  shook  himself  and  tossed  back  his  hair ; 
he  had  been  slowly  drawn  out  of  his  water  dream 
of  years  by  the  bait  on  Regan's  hook.  The  ideal 
Venice  floated  off  into  the  blue  on  tearful  clouds, 
and  the  modern  canal  city  with  its  beautiful  decay, 
its  rain  storms  and  hot  winds,  took  possession  of 
his  soul.  Sallus  was  not  so  deeply  stirred  ;  he 
stood  for  the  spirit  of  the  age.  There  was  nothing 
back  of  him  but  an  American  plough  and  a  flint 
lock  ;  he  had  his  fancies,  and  beauty  was  his  aim  ; 
but  he  was  wofully  young  both  in  country  and  in 
object  ;  a  modern,  out  and  out.  He  might  have 
risen,  clean- washed  from  the  sea,  or  descended  from 


ON  THE  RIAl/fO  39 

heaven,  as  far  as  anything  behind  him  was  con 
cerned. 

Later,  after  the  three  had  returned  to  the  hotel 
for  supper,  Sallus  went  out  for  an  hour  and  Aleppo 
sat  down  in  loving  proximity  to  Regan  and  made 
this  proposition.  "  You  have  smashed  my  ideal  of 
Venice  to  bits,  you  can  go  on  smashing  things  to 
the  end  of  this  trip — which  will  be  a  long  one,  I 
fancy — on  one  condition  ;  and  that  is,  that  you'll 
keep  Sallus  straight.  I've  managed  it  for  a  week, 
but  I  tell  you,  if  you  hadn't  turned  up,  'twould 
have  been  all  over  with  him  by  this  time.  You're 
a  marvel.  I  turn  him  over  to  you,  understand  ?  " 

"I  do,"  answered  Regan,  stretching  his  legs, 
"  guess  I'll  get  after  him  now.  I  know  about 
where  he  is.  I'll  give  him  a  revelation  to-night,  a 
regular  inside  view.  He'll  take  it  straight  without 
any  liquor  in  him,  and  I'm  sure  he'll  be  disgusted. 
You  see  he  was  always  boozy  when  he  got  into  the 
worst  of  things  and  didn't  know  what  he  was 
about.  Its  quite  another  thing  for  a  man  to  make 
the  tour  of  the  Inferno  with  his  perceptive  and 
reflective  faculties  in  normal  condition,  from  that 
of  dragging  himself  along,  stupified  with  drink." 

"You  are  right"  answered  Aleppo,  "Sallus  is 

anything   but  bad,  when  he  is   himself;   it  is  the 

drink  that  has  spoiled  him.     You  have  set  him  to 

thinking — you    certainly    have;    he's    brainy  but 

.young.     Wake  up  his  ideas,  and  keep  them  active 


40  EL  RESHID 

till    he  conquers   this  craving  that's  driving  him 
wild,  and  you'll  see  what  a  fellow  he  is." 

"That's  all  right,"  answered  Regan,  "but  a 
shock  is  a  heap  better  ;  there's  a  way  of  turning 
love  into  hate  you  know  in  double  quick  time.  Of 
course  if  he  were  old,  and  hadn't  the  wine  of  pure 
youth  in  him,  'twould  be  a  harder  thing  to  do  ; 
he  has  rich  blood,  that  Sallus  !  he  makes  himself 
over  about  once  a  week,  and  goes  "the  pace" 
again,  good  as  new,  that  is  the  privilege  of  youth, 
but  he's  a  beauty  lover  ;  and  beauty  and  nastiness 
don't  go  together  you  know.  He  has  to  get  drunk 
before  he  can  soil  his  wings  ;  when  he  is  sober,  he 
is  too  dainty,  see  ? 

At  this  stage  of  Aleppo's  development  he  was 
easily  convinced  that  most  of  Regan's  conclusions 
were  right;  so  thinking  a  moment,  he  asked, 
"  What  kind  of  a  shock  are  you  going  to  give  him  ?" 

"That's  not  for  you  to  know,"  said  Regan 
emphatically,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height 
and  plunging  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  "I  have 
done  this  sort  of  thing  before  with  young  fellows  ; 
with  some  I  succeed,  with  some  I  don't.  T  reckon 
I've  got  Sallus;  I  don't  mind  telling  you  the 
principle  of  the  thing, 'but  beyond  that  it's  my 
secret.  I  am  going  to  work  by  the  law  of  anti 
thesis,  see  ?  Catch  him  sober  when  his  squeamish- 
ness  and  daintiness  are  on  top,  and  duck  him  into 
about  the  filthiest  pool  on  the  planet ;  of  course 


ON   THE  RIAI/TO  41 

he'll  get  a  shock — can't  help  it;  and  you  know 
what  shocks  mean,  eh  ?  " 

"  Well,  after  a  fashion,"  said  Aleppo  yawning — 
he  only  half  grasped  it. 

' '  I'm  off  now  ;  we'll  make  a  night  of  it.  Don't 
you  go  to  meandering  ;  our  crowd  needs  some  one 
to  maintain  the  reputation." 

Regan  laughed,  got  out  his  tobacco,  and  went 
off,  leaving  Aleppo  in  his  own  company. 

He  enjoyed  it  too,  he  always  had  ;  in  this  sense 
he  was  a  strange  young  man  ;  he  loved  to  be  alone 
—utterly,  without  a  soul  within  miles  of  him.  As 
a  child  he  would  hunt  solitary  places  as  naturally 
as  most  children  seek  a  crowd.  He  had  a  curious 
power  of  ignoring  outer  environment,  and  creating 
an  inner  one  after  his  own  fancy — literally  reversing 
himself  and  looking  inwardly  rather  than  without. 

That  this  condition  was  to  him  extremely  fascinat 
ing,  can  be  better  understood,  when  we  explain  a 
certain  phenomenon  which  often  accompanied  these 
inner  explorations.  Over  and  over  again,  in  some 
pretty  dream  world  of  his,  had  appeared  a  face, 
young,  beautiful  and  feminine,  with  eyes  that  met 
his,  lovingly,  adoringly. 

Since  his  first  sight  of  her,  he  had  lived  in  a  sort 
of  interior  transport,  irrevocably  in  love  with  the 
vision  which  was  so  especially  his  own  ;  ever  long 
ing  for  its  reappearance,  and  firmly  convinced  that 
its  counterpart  lived  either  in  flesh  or  among  the 
"  angels. 


42  Ely  RKSHID 

This  mysterious  tendency  of  Aleppo's  to  live  the 
interior  life  was  inherent ;  he  had  received  no 
instructions  to  that  effect,  nor  had  he,  in  the  few 
short  years  of  his  existence,  met  with  any  one  who 
could  in  the  least  degree  sympathize  with  or  under 
stand  him  in  this  respect.  He  wrote  to  "  Miss 
Somebody"  regularly,  as  we  have  before  stated, 
and  although  he  had  privately  informed  Sallus  about 
her  in  one  of  his  confidential  moods,  aside  from 
that,  he  kept  his  experiences  to  himself.  Nor  was 
the  vision  of  the  girlish  face  his  only  source  of 
rapture.  He  beheld  places,  which  he  was  convinced 
must  be  on  earth  ;  and  heard  music  that  charmed 
him,  like  the  song  of  the  nightingale.  He  re 
membered  also,  some  of  his  early  past  ;  a  little  of 
his  nurse,  Edena,  and  a  vague  and  beautiful  woman, 
whom  he  saw  once  when  a  mere  child  ;  also  a 
revolting  personage  that  he  felt  sure  had  in  some 
way  tortured  him,  though  how,  he  could  not  recall. 
To-night  he  made  several  attempts  after  Regan's 
departure  to  enter  his  interior  domain,  but  without 
avail ;  no  vision  presented  itself  which  gave  him 
the  slightest  satisfaction  ;  so,  seizing  his  hat,  he 
started  forth  to  make  a  night  of  it  also,  after  his 
own  fashion. 

The  moon  was  full  ;  and  Venice  lay  like  a  silvery 
dream  on  the  water  ;  her  voice,  heard  now  and 
then  in  the  song  of  a  gondolier  as  he  paddled  noise 
lessly  up  and  down  the  calm  lagoon,  or  paused 


ON   THE  RIALTO  43 

before  the  steps  of  a  marble  palace,  whose  age  and 
decay  had  been  painted  out  by  ghostly  fingers. 

Aleppo  was  drunk  with  glamor,  debauched  with 
beauty,  as  he  shifted  his  point  of  view,  now  here, 
now  there,  appropriating  the  still  splendor,  as  the 
earth  absorbs  the  sun.  To  him  the  illusion  was  the 
real,  and  the  real  the  illusion.  Venetian  scars  were 
sanctified  and  made  lovely,  by  the  magic  touches  of 
the  moon.  The  ideal  city  had  descended  from  the 
blue  above,  to  float  upon  the  blue  below,  more 
content,  more  at  rest,  than  in  celestial  spaces. 

At  last  Aleppo  found  himself  on  the  bridge  of  the 
Grand  Canal,  and  unable  to  account  for  a  strange 
nervousness  which  had  suddenly  seized  him,  and  to 
which  he  was  entirely  unaccustomed.  He  was  at 
one  moment  exhilarated,  and  the  next  depressed ; 
fear  set  him  trembling,  to  be  followed  by  an  ecstatic 
spasm  of  the  heart.  In  this  perturbed  state  of 
mind,  he  sought  the  Rialto,  as  if  driven  there  by 
the  whip-cords  of  fate.  Wandering  aimlessly  over 
the  long  bridge  and  peering  in  mechanically  at  the 
shops,  he  had  gone  part  way,  when  two  people 
coming  in  his  direction  arrested  his  attention,  and 
brought  him  to  a  sudden  halt. 

The  elder  was  unmistakably  an  Assyrian  Jew, 
while  the  j-ounger  resembled  the  sweet-faced  vision 
of  his  dreams.  The  former  coming  out  of  the  past, 
unchanged,  save  by  added  ugliness,  was  the  coun 
terpart  of  the  demon,  which  had  lodged  in  the 
brain  of  the  child,  Aleppo,  seventeen  years  before, 


44  EL  RESHID 

while  the  latter  seemed  to  be  "  Miss  Somebody  "  to 
whom  he  had  written  since  his  hand  could  hold  a 
pen. 

They  passed  so  quickly  that  before  Aleppo  had 
recovered  from  the  shock,  they  had  vanished,  and 
left  no  sign.  The  young  man  took  off  his  hat, 
tossed  back  his  hair  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  Had 
he  been  deceived — was  it  after  all  but  a  return  of 
his  vision  ?  No,  they  had  been  so  near  that  he 
could  have  touched  their  garments,  and  together. 
What  had  they  two  in  common  ?  The  face  of  the 
girl,  he  remembered,  was  pale,  the  eyes  tear-stained. 
He  recalled,  however,  that  he  had  been  deceived 
before,  many  times,  and  sadly  disappointed.  This 
young  lady's  hair  was  different — lighter  and  more 
wavy — than  that  of  the  vision  of  his  dreams  ;  he 
must  be  mistaken,  it  was  a  resemblance  only.  But 
of  the  Jew  he  had  no  doubt.  He  had  noticed  as 
they  passed,  that  he  had  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  as 
though  his  attention  had  been  arrested,  and  a  sus 
picion  aroused.  Had  the  remembrance  been 
mutual?  Had  this  strange  man,  with  his  parch 
ment  visage,  and  claw-like  fingers,  discovered  some 
resemblance  in  Aleppo's  face,  that  made  his  iden 
tity  plain  ?  The  Jew,  was  uncanny,  antique,  revolt 
ing,  and  might,  for  aught  he  knew,  possess  extra 
ordinary  powers. 

Aleppo  was  utterly  at  sea ;  he  could  neither 
understand  himself,  nor  his  dread.  He  put  the  epi 
sode  of  his  sweetheart  aside,  and  exaggerated  his 


THE  JEW  45 

meeting  with  the  Jew,  apparently  out  of  all  propor 
tion  with  the  event.  He  hurried  back  to  his  hotel, 
and  locking  himself  in  his  room,  strove  by  all  the 
power  within  him  to  get  at  a  clue  to  himself. 
This  Jew  he  must  find  at  any  cost,  for  he  was 
undoubtedly  the  key,  by  which  Aleppo  might 
unlock  the  door  to  his  undiscovered  past. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  JEW. 

The  next  day  after  his  experience  on  the  Rialto, 
Aleppo  became  skeptical,  wary,  and  altogether 
unsettled  in  mind  as  to  the  identity  of  either  of  the 
parties,  met  the  night  before.  He  said  to  himself, 
"  The  Jew  of  my  childhood  is  undoubtedly  dead; 
or,  if  not,  his  diabolical  face  was  exaggerated  in 
my  terror.  A  baby  forgets — I  must  be  a  fool.  Of 
one  thing  I  am  certain,  if  I  stumble  on  him  again, 
I  will  '  draw  my  skirts  ;  '  'tis  pollution  to  touch 
him.  Rather  than  cultivate  his  acquaintance,  I 
will  leave  Venice;  better  lose  my  past  forever  than 
seek  it  through  such  a  source." 

This  was  Aleppo's  cogitation.  He  had  remained 
in  his  room  through  the  morning,  debating  with 
himself ;  after  the  departure  of  Regan  and  Sallus 
in  search  of  more  experience  along  doubtful  lines. 

In  the  meantime  a  Jew  had  entered  the  hotel, 
and  was  diligently  inquiring  for  a  young  man 


46  Ely  RESHID 

named   Aleppo.     He  was  asked   if  the  name  was 
Aleppo  Bracciolini.     Having  satisfied  himself  that 
it  might  be,  he  sent  his  card  to  Aleppo's  room, 
who    received    it   with    a  shock   of  astonishment. 
The  name  inscribed  on  the  curious  looking  tablet 
was  Jacob   Issachar.     Almost    before  Aleppo  had 
time  to  consider  whether  to  admit  him  or  not,  the 
door  was  pushed  softly  open  and  a  strange  figure 
entered.     He  wore  the  dress  of  the  ancients,  and 
presented,  in  his  face  and  form,  a  picture  that  must 
necessarily  throw  one  back  in  memory  or  imagina 
tion  thousands  of  years.     His  undergarment   was 
loosely    girdled  at  the   waist    and   over  this   was 
thrown  a   cloak,   which   fell   gracefully   from  one 
shoulder,  leaving  the  other  exposed.     On  his  head 
was   a   cap-like   hood,  which  was  drawn  squarely 
across  the  brow,  and  fell  in  a  cape  at  the  back  of 
his  neck.     His   black  hair,  stiff  and  straight,  fell  a 
little  out  of  his  head-gear  on  either  side  of  his  face, 
and  that,  with  his  tawny  skin  and   piercing  eyes, 
contrasted   fiercely    with   the  creamy  white  of  his 
garments,  which  fell  in  folds  of  great  beauty  over 
an  erect  and  powerful  frame.     His  height  was  phe 
nomenal — he  towered  above   Aleppo,  who  was  of 
average  size,  like   a   giant  patriarch  over  a  degen 
erate  modern — and  as  he  elongated,  seemingly  taller 
and  taller,  his  broad  mouth  spread  into  a  beaming 
smile,  displaying  the  perfect  teeth  of  an  untamed 
beast.       He   spoke  in    Aleppo's   favorite   tongue, 
which    was  English;  his   language   being   beyond 


THE  JEW  47 

criticism,  though  the  words  fell  slowly  and  with 
great  precision  from  his  lips. 

"Pardon," — Aleppo  instinctively  drew  away 
and  placed  a  chair  between  them — "  I  seek  one 
Aleppo  Romanes." 

"You  have  certainly  struck  the  wrong  man." 
Aleppo  tried  in  vain  to  assume  a  haughty  and 
indifferent  air,  but  the  same  terror  that  he  had  felt 
as  a  child  was  creeping  over  him,  wholly  unac 
countable,  and  utterly  beyond  his  understanding. 

"Ah!     Not  Aleppo  Romanes  ?" 

"  No!  "  thundered  the  young  man,  in  a  ridicu 
lously  loud  voice. 

"May  I  ask  your  name?  "  The  Jew  was  fault 
lessly  polite.  Aleppo,  feeling  his  own  actions  to 
be  absurd,  pulled  himself  together,  and  answered 
in  a  more  moderate  tone,  "Aleppo  Bracciolini." 

"A — h!!  "  Issachar  posed  like  a  statue,  turned 
his  eyes  far  back  into  his  head  and  remained  rigid 
a  full  minute,  then,  coming  to,  as  if  from  a  dream, 
blazed  in  dark  splendor  once  more  on  the  young 
man,  and  shot  flashes  and  sparks  into  his  very 
soul. 

"  Yes,  Aleppo  Bracciolini,  'tis  the  same,  from 
Italy?" 

"Well?  " 

"  Brought  up  in  an  asylum  ;  later,  adopted  by  a 
celibate;  afterward,  in  an  artist's  studio  ;  to-day,  on 
a  long  journey.  Am  I  right  ?  "  He  smiled  again  in 
the  same  beaming  way. 


48  EL,  RESHID 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Aleppo  deliberately 
concluded  to  lie.  His  dread  of  this  man  had  in 
creased  with  every  minute  of  his  stay;  his  uncanny 
knowledge  of  himself  was  revolting  ;  so,  turning 
his  full  face  on  Issachar,  and  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes,  he  proceeded  to  tell  a  full-fledged  false 
hood,  as  glibly,  aye,  even  more  glibly  than  he  usu 
ally  told  the  truth. 

"  You  are  all  wrong  (becoming  affable  suddenly, 
and  smiling  back,  while  courteously  offering  the 
Jew  a  chair,  which  that  gentleman  declined.)  "You 
are  all  wrong.  I  am  traveling  with  my  father, 
(here  he  hesitated)  Patrick  Bracciolini,  and  my 
brother  Sallus;  we  shall  make  the  tour  of  the 
world.  What,  pray  tell  me,  is  this  to  you?  " 

Before  Jacob  Issachar  had  time  to  reply,  the  door 
flew  open,  and  Regan  and  Sallus  entered.  They 
stopped,  as  if  brought  up  with  a  round  turn, 
when  their  eyes  caught  those  of  the  patriarch, 
who,  though  apparently  .but  middle-aged,  seemed 
to  have  all  the  pride  and  mystery  of  an  ancient. 
Aleppo,  caught  in  the  act  of  lying,  was  greatly 
confused  by  this  turn  of  affairs,  and,  driven  to 
bay,  took  desperate  measures  at  once. 

"  Jacob  Issachar,  this  is  my  father,  Mr.  Patrick 
Bracciolini,  and  my  brother  Sallus." 

Regan  allowed  his  lower  jaw  to  drop  for  a 
moment,  showing  a  whole  row  of  saffron-tinted 
teeth,  and  the  tobacco  besides;  then  smacked  his 
lips  together,  and  with  a  curious  look  of  under- 


THE  JEW  49 

standing  in  his  eyes,  held  out  his  hand  to  Jacob. 
This  the  Jew  rejected,  but,  elevating  his  voice  a 
little,  said,  without  the  slightest  loss  of  dignity, 
"  Your  son  does  not  resemble  you." 

"No;  it's  the  way  with  families — odd  sheep. 
See?  " 

Sallus,  convulsed  with  laughter,  stuffed  his  hand 
kerchief  into  his  mouth  and  steered  toward  the 
window,  but  the  Jew  stood  utterly  motionless,  and 
Regan,  catching  the  appealing  expression  in 
Aleppo's  face,  went  on  : 

"  He's  an  odd  one  ;  so  is  Sallus  for  that  matter; 
out  of  six  'tisn't  strange  that  two  should  look  like 
— well,  their  grandmother." 

" '  When  do  you  go  from  here  ?  ' ' 

The  Jew  uttered  the  words  with  a  pause  between 
each. 

Regan  had  no  idea,  but  glibly  answered; 

"We  shall  get  up  into  Scandinavia  next  mid 
night  sun,  and  all  that ;  may  keep  on  to  the  pole  ; 
but  who  is  it  that  you  seek  ?  ' ' 

"  Aleppo  Romanes.' ' 

"  Ah,  I  understand.  Aleppo  Romanes!  Yes; 
met  him  in  Stamboul ;  let's  see,  on  the  Asiatic  side, 
skulking  around  among  the  grave-stones.  Fine 
lad,  he,  given  to  poetry  and  romance  ;  had  a  talk 
with  him  at  Scutari;  was  just  about  to  do  up 
Siberia,  hunting  for  weird  subjects  for  a  great 
picture  ;  may  be  in  Constantinople  yet ; — that  all  ?  " 

The  Jew,  during  this  harangue,  had  turned  his 


50  EL,  RESHID 

eyes  backward  again,  far  into  his  head,  and  seemed 
not  to  have  heard  a  word;  then,  coming  to  him 
self,  shot  sparks  from  them  straight  into  the  lying 
soul  of  Regan,  and  bowing  slightly,  marched,  with 
long  and  dignified  strides  from  the  room. 

"Great  Scott!  "     What  a  figure! 

Regan  drew  a  long  breath,  and  wiped  the  per 
spiration  from  his  brow. 

' '  We  are  in  for  it  now, ' '  said  Sallus.  ' '  What  on 
earth  are  you  up  to,  any  way ;  who  under  heaven 
is  that  son  of  Adam  that  just  passed  out?  " 

For  answer,  Aleppo  locked  the  door;  then  went 
to  the  window  near  by,  and  took  a  long  survey. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I've  grown  ten  years  older — 
lying  comes  hard.  Yes,  we  are  in  for  it,  and  I 
see  no  way  out  of  it  either,  except  to  run." 

Regan  seated  himself  in  a  big  arm  chair,  like 
a  privileged  sire,  took  care  that  his  spittoon  was 
handy,  and  then  drawled,  in  a  paternal  voice, 

"Come  here,  my  son,  and  explain  to  your 
anxious  father  the  nature  of  this  event. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  entrance  of  the  men, 
Aleppo  laughed,  then  recited,  in  a  few  decisive 
words,  the  account  of  his  adventure,  beginning  on 
the  Rialto  the  night  before.  The  two  listeners  fell 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  with  avidity,  and  though 
they  could  not  in  the  least  understand  the  reason 
of  Aleppo's  nervousness,  each,  in  his  way,  discov 
ered  in  the  event  the  means  to  an  end.  Sallus' 
love  of  adventure  found  full  play,  while  Regan  saw 


THE  JEW  51 

a  chance  to  carry  out  a  standing  joke  which  would 
be  a  never  ending  source  of  amusement  for  the 
three.  Aleppo,  on  the  contrary,  was  tragic  to  the 
core,  and  with  difficulty  threw  off  the  numbness 
and  dread  which  had  set  him  trembling  an  hour 
previously. 

"  Now,  look  here,  boys,  you've  introduced  me  as 
your  father,  and  as  it's  the  first  time  I've  tried  the 
role  of  paterfamilias,  I  propose  to  keep  it  up  to 
the  end  of  this  trip.  It'll  be  an  awful  sight  of 
trouble,  to  be  sure,  for  I'm  used  to  the  name  of 
Regan  ;  but  I'll  get  round  that  somehow,  and  make 
you  fellows  toe  the  mark,  if  I  know  myself.  If 
the  Jew  has  designs  I  can  settle  him  perhaps. 
He's  after  you,  Aleppo,  of  course  ;  but  you  don't 
want  him  nor  none  of  his  sort.  In  my  opinion  he's 
a  kind  of  Mahatma." 

' '  A  what  ? ' '  said  Aleppo. 

"  A  Mahatma,  I  believe  that's  what  they  call 
them.  Did  you  see  how  he  rolled  his  eyes  up 
when  he  posed?  " 

"But  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  Ma 
hatma?"  said  Sallus — the  two  boys  drew  closely 
to  the  newly-made  father. 

"Well,  they  do  say,  those  that  are  supposed 
to  know,  that  there's  seven  or  eight  of  them  on 
earth  to-day,  and  I  guess  he's  one." 

"  Seven  or  eight  what  ?  " 

"Oh,  they're  men  of  course;    that  is  they  look 


52  EL  RESHID 

like  men,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is  boys,  they  are 
not;  they're  Dyhan  Chohans." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  and  Sallus  kicked  over  the 
chair  on  which  his  feet  were  resting,  "  why  do  you 
need  to  be  so  allfired  mysterious,  why  can't  you  let 
a  fellow  know  what  you  are  driving  at  without  all 
this  jaw  breaking  language  ?  " 

"Well  you  see, "  deliberately  rolling  his  quid, 
"these  beings  won't  tolerate  English  ;  Sanscrit  is 
hardly  good  enough  for  them,  to  say  nothing  of 
Pali." 

"  But  what  are  they  ?  "  put  in  Aleppo,  who  was 
taking  it  all  seriously. 

"Men,  as  I  told  you;  but  did  you  observe  the 
ancient  look  of  Issachar  ?  Well  now  it's  just  possi 
ble"— here  he  lowered  his  voice  to  an  uncanny 
stage  whisper — "  that  that  man  was  born  before 
Moses." 

"  Bosh"  !  said  Sallus,  rising  and  restoring  the 
chair  to  an  upright  position,  "  What  are  you  giving 
us  anyhow?  " 

"  Well  you  see  it's  this  way,"  went  on  Regan, 
if  there  are  Mahatmas  they  must  be  about  the  same 
as  Dyhan  Chohans.  And  if  they  can  build  worlds, 
and  walk  on  water,  and  appear  and  disappear,  why 
seven  or  eight  of  them  are  enough  on  this  planet, 
it  strikes  me,  and  I  shouldn't  be  more  than  sur 
prised  if  this  fellow  that's  got  after  L,ep  is  one  of 
them." 

The  faces  of  the  young  men  were  a  study  during 


THE  JEW  53 

this  harangue.  Sallus'  showed  supreme  disgust, 
and  Aleppo  drank  in  the  words  as  though  they 
were  gospel  truth — then  Sallus  caught  Aleppo's 
eye — 

"You  are  not  going  to  make  me  hate  you  by 
believing  this  stuff  are  you  Lep,"  he  said  with  a 
sneer. 

"  Hate  and  love  cut  no  figure  in  the  question," 
answered  Aleppo  tartly.  ' '  I  believe  Issachar  has 
strange  powers." 

"  You'd  better  believe  he  has  ;  "  went  on  Regan, 
' '  you  took  the  Jew  to  be  about  forty,  but  I  shouldn't 
wonder  in  the  least  if  he  were  the  bona-fide  son  of 
Jacob  and  Leah.  You  see,  Jacob  was  always 
hankering  after  Rachel.  Leah  had  blear  eyes,  or 
something  of  that  kind,  so  this  son  was  a  sort  of 
an  odd  stick  ;  and  those  that  the  gods  desert  are 
generally  compensated  by  some  unnatural  power. 
This  Jew  is  a  master  piece  ;  he's  one  of  the  seven 
wonders.  Anyhow  I  think  it's  an  excellent  plaoi 
to  go  on  the  supposition  that  he  is  a  Mahatma, 
otherwise  he'd  be  seducing  us  with  miracles,  sub 
duing  us  with  delusions,  making  passes  over  us  and 
staring  us  out  of  countenance  till  we  didn't  know 
which  was  which.  Then  he'd  hypnotize  us,  and 
that  would  be  the  end — once  h)'pnotized,  we'd  be 
done  for,  sure.  Why  boys,  he'd  make  us  go  any 
where,  just  calling  us;  we'd  follow  to  the  verge  of 
the  universe.  It's  the  most  deucedly  hellish  power 
there  is ;  and  what's  worse,  if  he  wanted  to  kill  us, 


54  EL  RESHID 

he'd  just  make  a  wax  image  of  you  or  me  and  stab 
it  to  the  heart — that's  killing  by  proxy,  but  it 
works  with  a  Mahatma  every  time — his  powers  are 
simply  infernal." 

"  I'd  like  to  get  at  him,"  said  Sallus,  bending 
his  elbow,  and  displaying  a  tremendous  knot  of 
muscle  near  the  shoulder — "  I  could  lay  that  Jew 
flat  with  one  blow." 

"  Don't  know  about  it,"  continued  Regan,  "  you 
see  he's  a  head  higher  than  you,  and  square  at  the 
shoulder  like  an  American  Indian.  What's  under 
that  infernal  night-dress  of  his,  'twould  be  hard  to 
tell.  In  my  opinion,  he's  pretty  tough,  both  in 
giving  and  taking;  wouldn't  be  an  easy  one  to 
tackle  by  a  long  shot.  But  as  I  was  saying,  if  he 
is  a  Mahatma  it's  all  right,  if  he  isn't,  it's  the  same 
— we'll  be  ready  for  him  anyhow." 

"  Yes,"  said  Aleppo  nervously,  we'll  be  ready  by 
running.     I  am  going  to  clear  out." 
*  "  I  never  knew  you  to  be  such  a  coward,"  said 
Sallus  with  astonishment. 

"I  will  admit  it.  I  am  scared.  Nor  do  I  under 
stand  myself  in  the  least,  nor  this  sensation  of  fear. 
Of  one  thing  1  am  certain  however,  this  man  is  the 
link  to  my  past.  Up  to  the  time  I  met  him,  I  was 
most  anxious  to  learn  about  myself ;  but  now  I  am 
not.  Besides,  though  I  know  very  well  that  Regan 
has  been  joking,  I  believe,  without  comprehending 
why,  in  the  Jew's  diabolical  arts.  A  man  with 
great  powers  is  not  necessarily  good — if  Satan  is 


THE  JEW  55 

alive,  Issachar  is  he.  Matters  sift  down  to  this — 
I'm  going  to  run,  you  can  come  on  with  me  if  you 
like,  or," — here  he  stopped. 

"Stay  here,  I  suppose  you  meant  to  say — 'whither 
thou  goest,  I  will  go,'  and  Sallus  also.  As  my 
two  dutiful  sons  I  propose  to  show  you  the  world ; 
and  if  the  black  Mahatma  gets  after  us  there'll  be  a 
race  worth  watching." 

Sallus  gave  a  sigh  of  supreme  satisfaction  ;  if 
anything  had  been  needed  to  complete  the  reform 
which  Aleppo  and  Regan  had  initiated,  it  was  this 
touch  of  adventure,  this  spice  of  danger,  that, 
though  it  did  not  appeal  to  him  in  the  least  in  the 
latter  sense,  was  nevertheless  so  thrilling  to  Aleppo, 
that  he  enjoyed  its  effects  on  another  almost  as 
much  as  though  feeling  them  himself. 

After  a  long  pause,  Regan  began  again — "  You 
see,  it's  about  time  we  made  some  regular  plan 
instead  of  gallivanting  around  hap-hazard.  Finan 
cially  I  expect  we  are  fixed  ?  " 

"  As  for  me,' '  answered  Sallus,  "  my  father  will 
pay  anything  to  keep  me  out  of  his  sight ;  he  won't 
care  if  I  go  on  till  doomsday,  so  that  I  don't  dis 
grace  the  Smith  family  ;  he's  very  sensitive  about 
the  Smiths — they're  so  few,  you  understand?  " 

"My  case  is  different,  "  put  in  Aleppo.  I  havn't  any 
father — nobody  but  myself;  however,  I  can  make  the 
tour  of  the  world  ;  it  was  my  aunt's  desire,  and  I 
have  arranged  for  it." 

"Now  see  here  boys,"  said  Regan,  "you  know  I'm 


56  BI«  RESHID 

rich — I  don't  mind  telling  you,  and  what's  more,  I 
know  how  to  spend.  The  time  was  once  when  I  was 
as  poor  as  a  religious  mouse,  fully  didn't  know  where 
my  next  bite  was  coming  from.  I  was  a  failure  up  to 
thirty,  out  and  out.  It's  a  pity  too,  for  if  I  had  had 
anything,  I  should  have  married— but  I  hadn't,  so 
that  settled  it.  She  went  off  with  a  richer  man.  She 
wouldn't  let  me  go  out  to  day's  labor,  so  I  ran  for 
pound  master,  coroner  and  district-attorney,  but 
they  all  fell  flat.  It  seemed  as  though  the  more 
effort  I  made,  the  poorer  I  grew;  at  last,  she  threw 
me  over  altogether,  and  I  vowed  I'd  get  rich  to 
spite  her.  As  I  couldn't  make  something  out  of 
something,  I  just  went  and  got  it  out  of  nothing— 
I  invented  an  egg-beater." 

"What  !  !  " 

"  An  egg-beater  that  beat  any  beater  that  ever 
was  beaten  before;  and  I  followed  it  up  writh  two 
or  three  other  unmentionables,  that  went  like  wild 
fire.  I  got  hold  of  a  fool  bigger  than  myself — he 
spent  all  his  money  on  them,  and  to-day  is  dead." 

"Whew  !!" 

"Yes,  but  his  widow  isn't;  her  new  husband 
enjoys  the  profits — he  has  a  good  time  lean  tell  you; 
so  you  see  I'm  fixed." 

"Why  didn't  you  marry  later?"  asked  Sallus 
curiously. 

"  Because  'twas  later,  that's  what's  the  matter — 
too  late.  My  only  sweetheart  turned  sweetness  to 
gall,  but  she's  the  one  that's  bothered,  not  I.  She 


THE  JEW  57 

repents  a  hundred  times  a  day.  When  she  found 
out  how  rich  I  was  growing,  she  wanted  to  get  a 
divorce  and  return  to  her  first  love — that  was  me. 
See?  But  of  course  she  couldn't.  Her  husband  is 
a  respected  member  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
and  doesn't  desert  her.  nor  give  cause.  Is  home 
every  night  at  sundown,  drinks  nothing  but  tea, 
chews  nothing  but  gum, and  smokes  eucalyptus. 
So  there  'tis;  she's  doomed,  and — well  I'd  rather  be 
here.  Now  boys  where  shall  we  go  next  ?  Under 
stand  please,  that  if  either  of  you  run  short,  I'll 
back  you.  Easy  come,  easy  go;  the  stuff  flows  in 
on  me,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  Ah! 
I  have  it,  I'll  hire  you  as  travelling  companions  on 
condition  that  you  take  pot  luck  with  me.  I'll  pay 
you  a  salary,  see  ?  I'm  getting  on  toward  forty-five, 
need  youthful  society  to  keep  me  from  ageing,  and 
all  that." 

The  boys  laughed  and  agreed,  that  if  times  grew 
hard  with  them,  Regan  should  hire  them  at  so 
much  a  month.  The  financial  part  arranged,  Regan 
started  in  again. 

"  Now  about  this  paternal  business  ;  I  believe  it's 
a  good  scheme;  it  will  throw  the  Jew  off  the  track, 
and  give  us  no  end  of  fun.  I'll  assume  Aleppo's 
name,  though  I  wish  to  goodness  'twas  Sallus'. 
Smith  suits  me  better.  We'll  do  the  world  up  in 
fine  shape — millionaire  father,  two  fractious  sons — 
eh?" 


53  EL  RESHID 

"Seems  to  me,  Lep  and  I  are  too  near  the  same 
age  to  be  passed  off  as  brothers,"  said  Sallus. 

"That's  all  right — twins  of  course." 

"Bosh!  who  ever  heard  of  twins  that  didn't 
match  better  than  we  do?  " 

"  Well  then,  one  of  you  will  have  to  lie.  How 
nearly  of  an  age  are  you  ? ' ' 

"  A  few  months  apart,  I  imagine." 

"  Which  is  the  oldest  ?" 

"  I  guess  I  am,"  said  Aleppo. 

"  It's  easy  then,  just  change  the  months  to  years, 
see  ?  " 

"But  I  don't  look  that  old,"  protested  Aleppo. 

' '  Sure,  you  could  pass  for  forty  easy.  Now  that's 
fixed,  where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  I'd  rather  like  to  get  out  of  the  beaten  track," 
said  Aleppo,  "  everybody  does  Europe.  America, 
Australia,  Malay  Archipelago,  Siberia,  anywhere 
except  France,  Holland,  Switzerland,  Italy. 
Europe's  done  to  death  ;  besides  I  have  seen  a  good 
share  of  it." 

"  America  and  Siberia  are  some  distance  apart," 
answered  Regan,  "however  that  cuts  no  figure; 
time  and  space  are  counted  out.  Now  if  we  could 
penetrate  into  Lhasa,  I  should  be  perfectly 
content." 

"Into  where  ?" 

"  I/hasa — Lhasa." 

' '  Why  it's  the  hardest  place  to  get  at  imaginable, 
and  still  harder  to  get  out  of.  To  be  within  the 


RHEA  59 

atmosphere  of  the  Grand  L,ama,  is  a  thought  that 
stirs  my  blood." 

"Never  heard  of  the  place,'  said  Sallus. 

"  Ever  so  many  people  have  though,  but  mighty 
few  of  our  kind  ever  get  to  see  it;  however,  that's 
in  the  far  off — what  next?  " 

"Pack,"  said  Aleppo.  "I'm  going  to  get  out  of 
this  " — the  fear  of  the  Jew  was  still  on  him.  "  I 
don't  care  where  we  turn  up,  so  it's  not  Venice." 

''  'Pon  my  word,  we've  got  a  girl  to  look  after." 

Sallus  was  disgusted  with  this  new  phase  in  his 
friend's  character. 

"  Said  and  done,"  interrupted  Regan.  And  the 
three,  at  this  call  to  action,  bustled  about,  and 
stuffed  their  wallets  and  bags,  man-fashion. 

The  city  of  the  Doges  knew  them  no  more;  and 
the  Jew  Issachar,  retired  within  himself,  to  work 
out  the  problem  of  Aleppo  and  the  mystic  mark. 


CHAPTER    V. 

RHEA. 

Mrs.  Hancock  and  Rhea  had  been  at  Brindisi  for 
several  days  ;  they  were  traveling  leisurely,  and 
would  embark  later  on  the  P.  and  O.  steamer  en 
route  for  Cairo.  They  had  turned  a  couple  of 
hotel  bed-rooms  into  pretty  places,  by  perching  a 
few  artistic  photographs  in  perilous  positions,  fill- 


60  EL  RESHID 

ing  a  vase  with  green  leaves,  picked  while  on  a 
walk,  and  strewing  the  tables  with  magazines  and 
papers.  Besides,  they  had  brought  out  their  dainty 
toilet  bottles  and  an  oriental  tea-pot  which  a  man 
would  have  smashed  forthwith. 

It's  strange,  but  American  women  (particularly 
American)  can  be  set  down  anywhere — by  the  sea, 
in  a  hut,  on  the  desert,  in  a  tent  or  a  hotel  bed 
room,  and  with  a  magic  wave  of  the  hand — lo  ! 
home. 

Mrs.  Hancock  was  Rhea's  aunt,  and  all-round 
adviser.  She  was,  she  said,  doing  her  duty  by 
Rhea,  who  lived  in-  a  chronic  state  of  resentment. 
She  had  been  known  to  complain  to  her  beloved 
pastor,  the  Reverend  Joseph  Hitchcock,  that  her 
niece  had  no  feeling  of  gratitude  nor  comprehension 
of  the  meaning  of  the  same.  Rhea  had  an  annuity  of 
her  own,  and  was  in  noway  a  dependent;  but  being 
without  father  or  mother  her  aunt  had  dutifully 
brought  her  up,  and  was  now  voluntarily  chaper 
oning  her  around  the  world.  Mrs.  Hancock, 
according  to  her  own  account,  lived  a  life  of  con 
tinual  sacrifice,  and  had  whispered  in  the  Reverend 
Hitchcock's  ear,  that  her  reward  would  come  later, 
if  not  on  earth.  The  fact  was,  she  was  getting  her 
recompense  each  day;  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  h£r- 
self  (deny  it  as  she  would)  the  posing,  advising, 
displaying  of  virtues,  rolling  of  religious  eyes,  the 
martyred  expression  which  circumstances  gave  her 
a  chance  to  assume,  all  these  brought  her  supreme 


RHEA  61 

satisfaction,  and  abundance  of  matter  to  send  in 
the  form  of  weekly  letters  to  her  "  beloved  pastor." 

Orthodox  by  persuasion,  to  say  nothing  of  pro 
fession,  she  used  the  unbending  rod  of  blue  Pres- 
byterianism  to  pierce  a  hole  through  the  azure  of 
heaven,  into  which  she  expected  eventually  to 
crawl.  But  Rhea  was  a  heathen.  She  had  lived 
now  some  twenty-six  years,  and  would  suffer  no 
"ism  "  or  "  ist  "  to  be  attached  to  her;  literally 
daring  the  devil,  and  traveling  the  broad  path  of 
wickedness — so  her  aunt  called^it — with  as  much 
self-respect  and  contentment  as  most  young  ladies 
when  on  the  narrow  road  to  heaven.  Mrs.  Han 
cock  had  never  been  able  to  frighten  her,  even 
when  a  child,  though  she  had  threatened  her  with 
all  the  sorrows  of  this  life  and  of  the  other,  if  she 
continued  to  ignore  the  admonitions  of  the  Rever 
end  Hitchcock,  and  refused  to  enter  the  door  of  the 
church.  But  for  that  gentleman,  Rhea  had  an  abso 
lute,  dislike;  which  was  ill-concealed ;  in  fact 
between  herself  and  her  aunt  there  was  but  little 
love,  save  that  which  creeps  in  through  ties  of 
blood.  The  two  tolerated  each  other,  extracting  a 
mosquito-like  pleasure  from  their  relative  positions, 
stinging  right  and  left  with  their  tongues,  and  pre 
venting  in  their  intercourse  all  monotony  and 
stagnation. 

Rhea  was  beautiful — if  beauty  is  in  any  way  akin 
to  fascination.  Whether  she  could  stand  the  test  of 
sculptor  or  painter  is  a  question,  but  one  thing  is 


62  EL  RESHID 

certain,  she  always  succeeded  in  impressing  one 
with  her  mysterious  eyes,  and  slender  white  hands, 
that  seemed  to  be  made  either  for  models  or  for  a 
harp.  The  face  of  Rhea  carried  in  it  strength  and 
witchery — such  an  expression  as  must  have  been  in 
that  of  Cleopatra  or  Phryne.  Her  brow  and  speech 
indicated  fine  intellect  and  conquering  will,  while 
in  the  dimples,  where  the  angels  had  kissed  her, 
nestled  little  cupids,  restless  to  take  wing.  She 
was  a  New  England  product,  but  far  back  of  her 
were  Spain  and  Scotland — the  flower  of  a  hard- 
headed,  passionate  ancestry.  Thriving  under  the 
wintry  blasts  of  Cape  Cod,  she  grew  straight  as  an 
arrow,  cold  as  an  iceberg,  and  hot  as  a  tropical  sun, 
with  logical  mind  and  stormy  heart  she  represented, 
in  her  own  sweet  self  the  two  poles  of  being  that 
drew  to  her  side  both  men  and  women — lov  ers  of 
either  sex  and  of  all  ages. 

As  I  have  said,  they  were  temporarity  at  Brindisi, 
but  Mrs.  Hancock  had  an  abundance  of  work  to  do 
nevertheless.  She  had  a  rival  in  Massachusetts, 
whom  she  remembered  well,  even  in  Italy;  this  un 
reasonable  personage  was  a  Mrs.  Ellsworth,  who  was 
liable  to  get  the  pastor's  ear  while  Mrs.  Hancock 
was  traveling,  and  this  worried  that  lady  unceas- 
ingty.  The  rivalry  did  not  stop  here  however; 
these  two  women  had  vied  with  each  other  from 
the  days  of  their  youth  in  fancy  work  and  embroid 
eries  ;  and  just  at  present  were  working  on  table 
linen  and  centerpieces,  Determined  that  her  trip 


RHEA 

around  the  world  should  but  emphasize  an  honest 
competition,  Mrs.  Hancock  spent  every  spare 
moment,  when  not  writing  to  the  pastor,  in  embroi 
dering  the  initial  "H  "  in  napkin  corners,  or  adorn 
ing  elaborate  table  centerpieces  with  somewhat  weak 
imitations  of  innocent  flowers. 

Rhea  had  once  told  her  that  the  Americans  could 
never  grasp  the  secret  of  color,  and,  in  high  dis 
dain,  she  had  left  the  room — but  this  aside. 

Mrs.  Hancock  came  bursting  into  Rhea's  parlor 
the  day  before  their  departure,  with  her  hands  full  of 
work;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  she  was  a  pic 
turesque  figure,  as,  comfortably  adjusting  her  eye 
glasses,  she  covered  herself  with  embroidery  silks. 
She  had  a  certain  type  of  New  England  mouth  that 
shuts  itself  with  a  snap.  She  was  ceaselessly  looking 
forward  to  a  reward,  and  working  on  no  matter 
what,  as  though  she  expected  to  be  paid  for  it. 
Undoubtedly  this  was  New  England  thrift,  honestly 
come  by,  and  well  maintained;  the  only  difference 
between  her's  and  that  of  any  other  Yankee  lay  in 
the  fact  that  she  had  transferred  her  right  and  title 
from  property  on  this  side  to  a  piece  on  the  other, 
having  taken  a  deed  to  a  literal  mansion  beyond 
the  pearly  gates,  which  she  expected  sooner  or 
later  to  rule  over  in  genuine  Yankee  style.  This 
was  evidenced  in  her  face — it  had  a  by-and-by 
expression,  peculiarly  its  own. 

She  was  scarcely  more  than  seated,  when,  with 


64  EL  RESHID 

the  first  plunge  of  the  needle  into  the  linen,  she 
addressed  Rhea: 

' '  Feminine  graces,  my  dear,  are  always  sought 
after  by  the  men." 

Rhea  raised  her  eyes  from  the  book  she  was  read 
ing,  and  looked  straight  at  her  aunt;  there  was 
defiance  in  her  expression  but  none  in  her  tone,  as 
she  said  calmly,  "Well?"  The  3roung  woman 
was  always  polite  ;  frigid  oftentimes  in  her  manner, 
yet  strictly  the  lady,  from  head  to  toe.  She  hated 
ugliness,  coarseness  and  vulgarity;  so,  while  full  of 
inward  revolt  at  the  tirade  she  felt  in  the  air,  she 
answered  Mrs.  Hancock  in  a  calm  tone. 

"Of  course,  Rhea,  you  know  that  you  must 
marry,  sooner  or  later — you  have  put  it  off  now 
longer  than  most  girls  would  dare — and  the  way  to 
really  capture  a  desirable  man  is  through  your  truly 
feminine  qualities.  Men  have  enough  of  the  male 
element  in  themselves;  they  seek  in  woman  the 
very  opposite." 

"  Do  you  think  me  decidedly  masculine  ?  " 

The  girl's  eyes  were  sparkling  with  fun  ;  the  con 
versation  had  taken  an  amusing  turn. 

"  Not  to  look  at,  but  you  are  a  regular  man  to 
talk  with;  men  admire  you  till  they  know  you,  then 
you  frighten  them." 

"  But  that  is  what  I  live  for;  what  better  amuse 
ment  could  I  have  than  that  of  frightening  men  ? ' ' 

"  That  is  all  very  well  while  you  are  young,  but 
'twont  do  forever;  you  will  find  yourself  among  the 


RHEA  65 

list  of  those  '  left  out  '  in  a  year  or  two;  your 
chances  are  growing  less  all  the  time.  When  we 
have  completed  this  trip,  your  education  will  be 
entirely  finished,  and  if  your  prospects  are  as  vague 
at  the  end  of  the  journey  as  they  are  now,  I  don't 
know  what  will  become  of  you." 

"  I  shall  probably  go  into  a  convent, "  said  Rhea, 
more  and  more  amused,  "but  say,  Aunt  Carrie, 
what  do  you  mean  by  '  my  chances  '  ?  " 

"Your  chances  to  get  married,  of  course." 

"  But  I  never  had  an  offer  from  anybody  in  my 
life,  so  I  don't  see  how  they  can  grow  less." 

"  You  might  have  had  a  hundred  ;  its  your  own 
fault;  you  have  men  dangling  after  you  continually 
— all  sorts,  young  and  old,  but  as  soon  as  they 
show  a  sign  of  coming  to  terms,  you  spring  the 
subject  of  spontaneous  generation  on  them,  or  the 
cellular  theory,  or  some  cult  or  other,  that  shuts 
their  mouths  tighter  than  clams.  I've  seen  you  do 
it  over  and  over  again." 

' '  But  suppose  I  want  to  shut  their  mouths,  havn't 
I  the  right  so  far  as  I  am  concerned?" 

"  No  you  haven't,  Rhea  Nelliuo,  your  first  duty 
is  to  marry." 

She  was  somewhat  wrathy  and  stabbed  her  finger 
with  the  cambric  needle  till  the  blood  flew.  Rhea 
bit  her  lip  to  keep  from  laughing,  and  dropped  her 
eyelids  to  hide  their  mischief.  To  get  Mrs. 
Hancock  into  a  rage  while  she  remained  utterly 
unconcerned,  was  one  of  Rhea's  chief  delights. 


66  EL  RESHID 

"  You  talk  exactly  as  Mr.  Sylvas  does — exactly; 
he  informed  me,  that  men  sought  clinging  imbecile 
women — gentle,  unlearned  women — madonna-faced 
women — •"  lean-to  "  women — he  also  whispered  in 
my  ear  that  I  had  but  to  suppress  my  inclination  to 
study  and  logic  to  find  a  man  like  himself,  or 
perhaps,  even  himself,  my  devoted  slave." 

"  And  his  advice  was  good, "said  Mrs.  Hancock, 
snapping  her  eyes,  and  pricking  her  fingers  again. 

"  But  you  see,  Aunt  Carrie," — in  her  sweetest 
fashion — ' '  while  those  after  the  style  of  Mr.  Sylvas 
might  enjoy  me  in  that  phase,  I  shouldn't  enjoy  my 
self.  The  wonder  of  it  is,  that  men  never  consider 
me ;  as  it  happens,  what  they  would  like  me  to  be 
and  what  I  enjoy  being  are  quite  different.  I  live, 
I  imagine,  to  live.  The  main  question  with  me  is 
how  much  of  life  can  I  get;  but  unfortunately  Mr. 
Sylvas'  idea  of  me  is  just  contrary.  He  would 
reduce  me  in  height  a  few  inches,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  the  taller  of  the  two.  It  is  mostly  that 
way  with  men,  Aunt  Carrie;  they  can't  bear  to  look 
up,  but  love  to  look  down." 

"  Talk  is  cheap,  and  that's  conceit" — this  time 
Mrs.  Hancock  snapped  her  needle  in  two — "  but  I 
tell  you,  after  you've  passed  thirty  you  will  change 
your  tactics. ' ' 

"Why?"  said  Rhea  innocently,  assuming  an 
aggravating  expression — 

"Because  you'll  want  to  be  loved  mighty  bad, 
just  as  any  other  woman  does.  " 


RHEA  67 

"  But  I  want  that  now  " — she  looked  more  child 
like,  more  ignorant  if  that  could  be,  than  before — 

"Then  why  don't  you  take  your  chance  while 
you  can  get  it;  Sylvas  is  dying  for  you;  all  that  he 
asks  is  that  you  spare  his  pride  a  little,  and  become 
•  dutiful  and  humble  as  a  woman  ought  to  be.  Ralph 
Logan  would  marry  you  too,  but  for  the  same 
cause." 

Rhea  sighed  as  if  her  last  hope  had  vanished, 
though  one  with  sharp  ears  might  have  translated 
the  sigh  into  a  laugh. 

"  Then  I'm  doomed  to  be  a  spinster,  and  against 
my  most  ardent  wishes  too.  I  want  love  more  than 
any  woman  on  earth,  but  I  desire  it  for  the  whole 
of  me,  not  for  a  part.  If  I  must  sacrifice  two-thirds 
of  myself  in  order  to  get  the  other  one-third  adored, 
I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do.  You  see 
auntie,  'twill  be  suicide — nothing  less.  I  should 
have  to  kill  my  logic,  my  imagination,  my  dreams 
— all  that  part  of  me  which  I  enjoy  the  most, 
whether  it  gives  anybody  else  pleasure  or  not." 

"  Wouldn't  you  rather  have  a  third  of  yourself 
loved  than  none  at  all  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it!"  said  Rhea  energetically,  toss 
ing  her  book  on  the  table — ' '  in  fact  I  have  that 
now;  my  torn  cat,  Noah,  at  Sandwich  loves  that 
much  of  me,  so  do  my  six  white  hens,  and  my  pug 
Bascom.  No  Aunt  Carrie  Hancock  dearest" — and 
she  went  over  to  her  aunt  and  caught  her  face  in 
tier  hands  and  kissed  her — "just  in  proportion  as  I 


68  EL  RESHID 

belong  to  these  men,  they  love  me,  don't  you  under 
stand.  I  suppose  I  appeal  to  each  one  of  them 
somewhat,  so  they  dangle  about,  but  I  appeal  to  my 
self  more  ;  that's  just  all  there  is  of  it.  If  I  ever 
marry,  and  alas  !  I  fear  I  never  shall  " — here  she 
stroked  her  aunt's  hair  consolingly — "  I  must 
marry  completely:  to  be  a  little  bit  married  isn't 
after  my  style.  I  want  to  be  married  altogether  or 
iiot  at  all —  do  you  comprehend  ?" 

"No  I  don't." 

Mrs.  Hancock  was  mollified,  however;  she  always 
gave  way  under  Rhea's  caresses — "  You're  the 
strangest  mortal  I  ever  saw,  without  exception,  but 
we  must  dress  for  dinner,"  and  she  gathered  up 
her  flosses  and  linen  and  rustled  out. 

When  she  had  gone,  Rhea  threw  herself  into  the 
chair  and  gave  way  to  a  fit  of  hysterical  laughter — 
O,  auntie!  You'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet!  Mr. 
Sylvan!  Mr.  Logan!"  It  was  too  much;  she 
abandoned  her  dignity  and  allowed  her  amusement 
full  sway.  This  was  a  trait  of  her's,  to  drain  the 
last  drop  from  the  cup,  though  it  contained  nothing 
but  water. 

Completely  rejuvenated,  she  proceeded  to  dress, 
and  looked  much  like  a  girl  of  sixteen  when  she 
met  her  aunt  at  dinner  an  hour  later. 

As  it  happened,  Regan.  Aleppo  and  Sallus  arrived 
in  Brindisi  that  very  day  on  their  way  to  Cairo  also, 
and  were  placed  at  the  same  hotel  table  with  Mrs. 
Hancock  and  her  neice  Rhea.  The  three  men,  one 


RHEA  69 

after  the  other,  caught  the  eyes  of  the  young  lady, 
and  each  felt  in  his  own  way  a  peculiar  little  shock, 
at  the  same  time  a  warmth  about  the  heart  and  a 
desire  with  it  to  be  good,  and  do  good,  to  all  the 
world.  This  was  the  first  emotion  that  Rhea  called 
up  in  the  soul  of  a  man,  when  she  chose  to  look  him 
in  the  eyes.  It  was  always  the  same,  with  old  or 
young,  but  later,  her  aunt  had  remarked,  she  spoiled 
it  all. 

Regan  sat  opposite  Rhea,  and  the  two  young  men 
were  on  either  side  of  him.  Fo*r  a  few  moments 
they  devoted  themselves  energetically  to  the  dinner, 
but  later,  Mrs.  Hancock  who  was  rather  nervous, 
dropped  her  fork,  which  Aleppo  instantly  restored 
to  her;  this  called  forth  thanks  and  apologies,  and 
before  they  knew  it,  they  were  all  talking  as 
though  old  friends.  Regan  informed  Mrs.  Hancock 
that  he  and  his  sons  were  about  to  take  the  steamer 
for  Cairo,  and  learning  that  the  lady  and  her  neice 
were  going  there  also,  the  three  men  beamed  at 
each  other  unconscious  of  what  they  were  so  happy 
about ;  while  Mrs.  Hancock  took  account  of 
stock  as  she  usually  did  whenever  Rhea  and  a 
husband  were  concerned. 

Bracciolini,  the  elder,  and  Rhea  took  a  fancy  to 
each  other  at  once,  and  having  ascertained  that  they 
were  both  Yankees,  and  from  the  same  state,  their 
right  to  a  travelling  partnership  was  conceded  by 
all.  The  boys,  already  jealous  of  Regan,  vowed 
by  the  powers,  that  on  no  account  should  Miss 


70  EL  RESHID 

Nellino  be  disillusioned  about  their  relationship; 
they  called  Regan,  father,  continuously,  and  he  see 
ing  through  the  ruse  proceeded  to  tease  them  forth 
with  by  making  the  matter  of  his  paternity  so 
emphatic  that  Rhea  suspected  mischief.  It  took 
but  a  few  moments  of  companionship  with  this 
beautiful  and  tantalizing  young  woman  to  set  the 
men  on  edge  with  each  other,  while  plunging  them 
"  head  over  ears ' '  into  certain  states  of  feeling 
which  they  had  never  experienced  before. 

Rhea  revealed~to  them  new  worlds  and  excited 
potentialities  into  action  which  had  previously  lain 
dormant.  Aleppo  longed  to  tell  her  of  "Miss 
Somebody, ' '  and  adopt  her  as  a  sort  of  muse-mother 
to  whom  he  might  fly  and  pour  out  his  soul. 
Sallus  on  the  contrary  had  already 'vowed  that  he 
would  marry  her  or  die;  while  Regan  warmed  by  a 
spirit  of  comradeship,  felt  that  at  least  he  had  found 
his  match,  and  prophesied  for  himself  more  down 
right  fun  for  the  coming  trip  than  he  had  deemed 
was  possible  an  hour  before.  But  she  had  thought 
little  about  any  of  them  except  perhaps  Regan, 
whose  Yankee  face  and  sharp  tongue  had  tickled 
her  fancy  from  the  first. 

The  steamer  was  to  sail  the  next  day,  and  they 
met  in  the  evening  on  the  hotel  porch  to  talk  over 
plans  and  prospects.  Mrs.  Hancock  took  the 
young  men  under  her  maternal  wing,  and  Regan 
found  a  seat  near  Rhea.  The  moonlight  struck  her 
full  in  the  face,  and  Regan's  sharp  eyes  discovered 


RHEA  71 

numerous  and  unreadable  expressions  there,  as  he 
went  on,  glibly  lying  to  her.  He  was  trying  to 
concoct  some  sort  of  a  story,  by  which  he  should 
justify  his  relation  to  Sallus  and  Aleppo  to  whom 
he  was  loyal  to  the  core,  but  it  was  hard  work. 

"In  the  first  place,"  said  Rhea  "  I  don't  know 
anyone  in  the  Bay  State  named  Bracciolini ;  to  be 
sure  I  am  not  acquainted  with  everybody  there, 
but  it  seems  rather  queer,  seeing  that  you  are  on 
such  good  terms  with  a  number  of  my  friends,  that 
they  have  never  mentioned  you  to  me." 

"  'Tis,  rather,"  said  Regan — "I  expect  it  just 
happened  so;  you  see  the  name's  a  hard  one  to 
pronounce. "  He  bit  off  a  piece  from  a  twig  on  the 
porch  and  put  it  into  his  mouth;  he  had  given  up 
tobacco — since  supper. 

"  Nevertheless"  went  on  Rhea  with  a  contented 
little  sigh  "it's  nice  to  meet  you,  especially  as  you 
know  so  many  of  my  friends.  There's  one  thing 
that  puzzles  me  though — " 

"  What's  that?"  and  Regan  drew  a  little  nearer. 

' '  You  seem  too  young  to  be  the  father  of  these 
men." 

Regan  was  both  disturbed  and  flattered — "What 
the  deuce,"  said  he  to  himself,  "have  I  got  into 
this  fix  for?" — out  loud — "I  suppose  I  do  look 
somewhat  young;  just  a  boy  with  them,  as  a  father 
should  be,  see?  Married  in  my  teens."  Then  a 
bright  idea  struck  him — "  wife  died,"  he  saw  per- 


72  EL,  RESHID 

dition  yawning  at  his  feet,  but  he  was  in  for  it — 
"have  been  a  widower  a  long  time." 

The  girl's  face  was  a  study.  Regan  could  have 
killed  himself  for  posing  before  her  as  such  an  ass, 
but  what  could  he  do?  He  liked  Rhea  exceedingly, 
and  was  far  from  anxious  that  she  should  consider 
him  in  the  paternal  light;  but  there  were  the  boys, 
he  liked  them  too,  and  read  revolt  in  their  eyes,  if 
he  deviated  in  the  slightest  degree  from  the  pre 
arranged  plan;  he  saw  that  neither  Sallus  nor 
Aleppo  would  tolerate  him  as  their  rival  unless  he 
played  the  paternal  role.  Ah!  it  had  its  advantage 
— it  would  give  him  a  degree  of  freedom  with  the 
girl  and  a  hundred  opportunities  to  enjoy  her 
society,  that  would  be  otherwise  hard  to  get. 

"So  your  first  name  is  Rhea,"  said  Regan,  "are 
you  the  mother  of  Zeus  ?  " 

She  laughed  exultingly — "  I  may  have  been,  in 
some  far  away  life,  when  the  Olympians  were  cast 
ing  longing  eyes  on  Greece:  it's  a  wonderfully 
maternal  name,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Quite  out  of  the  ordinary  "  Regan  answered, 
chewing  his  twig  vigorously — "Greek  myth  is 
about  as  pretty  as  any  I  know  of — eh  ?" 

"There  let  me  shake  hands  with  you  Mr. 
Bracciolini,  I  love  Greece,  every  inch  of  it,"  her 
face  positively  glowed — ' '  old  Mitylene,  A  thens,  the 
Acropolis,  Olympus,  how  the  names  thrill  and 
charm  me.  If  it  be  true  that  man  dies  to  be  born 
again,  I  have  sometime  lived  in  Greece.  I  dream 


RHEA  73 

of  Hellas  at  night;  a  Corinthian  column  makes  my 
heart  flutter;  the  names  of  Phidias,  Aspasia,  Damon, 
Pericles  sound  in  my  ears  in  echoes  to  this  very 
day." 

She  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  the 
moon  transforming  her  to  a  reincarnated  Phryne, 
reveling  in  the  memory  of  Praxitiles. 

Regan  was  somewhat  appalled,  and  sent  his  twig 
over  the  railing  instanter.  The  impassioned  being 
before  him,  in  white  serge  had  changed  from  a 
Cape  Cod  Yankee  to  an  enraptured  child  of  Hellas, 
pouring  out  her  soul's  complaint — not  to  him,  but 
to  the  moon. 

He  had  nothing  to  say;  for  once  his  tongue  was 
glued  to  thereof  of  his  mouth;  he  wanted  to  run, 
and  he  wanted  to  stay.  At  last  Rhea  herself  broke 
the  spell. 

"You  must  think  me  crazy,  Mr.  Bracciolini," 
dropping  into  a  chair  and  drawing  back  into  the 
shadow — "  I  have  these  spells  once  in  a  while — 
can  you  explain  them?  " 

Regan  felt  better — "Yes,  I  think  so;  you  see 
'tisn't  exactly  hallucination;  it's  the  poetry  in  you 
that's  all.  Those  folks  in  Attica  were  first  class, 
as  far  as  culture  and  art  go,  and  you've  got  a  fellow 
feeling — it  takes  the  moon  to  bring  it  out  though." 

"Of  course  you  will  think  me  a  fool,  but  I  am 
pretty  sure  I  have  lived  there,"  answered  Rhea. 

"  'Tisn't  for  me  to  say  you  haven't,  answered 
Regan — ' '  as  long  as  it  is  admitted  that  there  are 


74  EIv  RKSHID 

adepts,  there's  no  telling  but  reincarnation  may  be 
true. ' ' 

' '  But  what  in  the  world  have  adepts  to  do  with 
*the  question?" 

"Only  this,  just  the  minute  I  admit  of  one  thing 
outside  of  the  well  known,  I  admit  all,  see?  As 
long  as  I  am  swallowing  adepts,  reincarnation  goes 
down  with  it." 

"  But  do  you  swallow  adepts — Mr.  -  —I  for 
get  your  name — Bracciolini  ? ' ' 

"  I'll  tell  you  later,  I'm  in  the  act  of  making  a 
test  now.' ' 

Rhea  drew  slightly  away  from  him;  she  was 
getting  afraid  of  this  riddle. 

"  Don't  be  frightened  MissNellino,  it's  all  right." 
And  adroitly  changing  the  subject  they  began  to 
discuss  the  coming  trip  to  Cairo. 

In  the  meantime  Sallus  and  Aleppo  had  been 
whistling  to  the  moon;  Mrs.  Hancock,  unable  to  do 
anything  with  them  had  sought  her  own  room. 
Suddenly  Sallus  burst  out,  "  Say  L,ep,  let's  play  a 
joke  on  Dad?"  "All  right  '  — as  a  rule  Aleppo 
scorned  practical  jokes;  but  he  had  fallen  from 
grace. 

"Ten  to  one,"  went  on  Sal — "he's  palming  him 
self  off  as  a  widower;  'twont  do." 

"  Not  much  "  answered  Aleppo,  forgetting  his 
vow  to  abandon  slang — "  not  much — come  on!" 

They  both  shied  over  to  the  animated  couple, 
and  Sallus  blurted  out,  "  Dad  have  you  written  to 


EL  RF,SHID  75 

mother  to-night?"  but  Regan  was  one  too  many 
for  them. 

"  No  my  son,  I  shall  do  so  later."  You  see,  Miss 
Nellino  I've  had  the  habit  ever  since  she — hem — 
departed  "  he  bit  his  tongue  here — "  of  writing  her 
a  letter,  just  to  keep  up  the  memory  you  know — 
old  times — see  ?  " 

The  young  men  began  to  whistle  again,  directly 
at  the  moon,  and  Rhea  who  found  Regan  beyond 
her,  rose  and  smiling  bewitchingly  at  Sallus  and 
Aleppo,  bade  the  three  good  night. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EL  RESHID. 

It  was  raining  in  Paris  ;  the  storm  had  been 
tempestuous  since  sundown,  and  as  the  evening 
grew  apace,  sleet  and  hail  fell  on  the  shining  roofs 
and  sidewalks  with  increasing  fury.  Indeed  it  was 
difficult  for  the  pedestrian  to  make  headway  at  all, 
while  the  street  gamins  crawled  into  their  holes 
and  crannies  like  cats  and  dogs,  but  with  less  dis 
comfort.  It  was  severely  cold,  and  as  disagreea 
ble  a  night  to  be  out  in  as  one  could  select.  Never 
theless,  a  man  came  from  Gare  de  l'Est,took  a  car 
riage,  and  proceeded  along  the  Boulevard  Sebasto- 
pol  in  the  direction  of  the  observatory;  about  mid- 
.way  he  ordered  the  driver  to  stop,  and  alighting, 
continued  on  foot,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a 


76  EIv  RESHID 

hound,  following  an  unseen  trail.  At  last  he 
brought  up  suddenly  before  a  house  which  looked 
exactly  like  its  two  neighbors  on  either  side. 

Within  this  particular  residence  Henrique  Ro 
manes  had  been  for  the  past  two  hours  anxiously 
waiting  for  some  one,  and  betrayed  his  nervous 
ness  in  a  hundred  ways,  but  chiefly  by  walking  up 
and  down  the  full  length  of  his  dimly-lighted 
library,  pausing  periodically  before  the  doors  and 
listening  a  long  minute,  to  be  rewarded  by  the 
slamming  of  a  shutter,  or  the  rattle  of  the  sleet. 

The  house,  furnished  in  the  conventional  French 
style,  had,  nevertheless,  a  secluded  and  refined  air, 
that  proclaimed  the  individuality  of  Romanes. 
First  and  foremost,  it  was  instinct  with  him — the 
things  about  seemed  half  conscious  servants,  ready 
on  all  occasions  to  do  the  Master's  bidding. 

He  grew  more  impatient  as  time  advanced,  and 
consulted  his  watch  continually,  even  unbolting 
and  opening  the  outer  door,  to  peer  into  the  storm. 
At  last  a  sort  of  despair  took  possession  of  him, 
and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  and  closing  his 
eyes,  his  face  assumed  a  drawn  look,  which  aged  it 
at  once.  He  had  been  in  this  downcast  mood  for  a 
full  half-hour,  when,  glancing  up,  as  if  brought  to 
himself  by  a  shock,  he  beheld  the  calm  but  brilliant 
face  and  erect  figure  of  El  Reshid.  How  this 
gentleman  had  entered  he  could  not  surmise — the 
servant  must  have  been  silent  and  swift.  Romanes 
stared  at  him  for  an  instant,  then,  rising,  bowed 


EL  RESHID  77 

nearly  to  the  floor;  in  fact  he  failed  to  raise  his 
head,  but  kept  it  bent,  till  El  Reshid  stooped  and 
compelled  him  to  look  up.  Romanes'  eyes  were 
streaming  with  tears,  which  he  tried  in  vain  to 
hide,  and  which  his  guest  affected  not  to  see. 
From  the  first  to  the  last  of  their  interview,  which 
continued  for  half  an  hour,  Romanes  avoided  the 
glance  of  El  Reshid,  and  betrayed  humility  and 
shame,  utterly  foreign  to  his  ordinary  self. 

El  Reshid  was  scarcely  of  average  height,  but 
his  carriage  was  so  erect,  and  his  air  so  imposing, 
that  he  appeared  even  larger  than  Romanes,  who 
was  somewhat  above  him.  Though  dressed  in  the 
civilian's  garb  of  black,  of  true  Parisian  cut,  but 
a  glance  was  needed  for  one  to  discover  that  he  was 
of  oriental  extraction;  his  eyes  and  hair  being 
extremely  dark  and  his  skin  of  the  tint  of  cream. 
Twice  during  his  interview  with  Romanes  he  con 
sulted  his  watch,  the  case  of  which  was  studded 
with  emeralds,  imbedded  in  the  gold  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  reflect  a  peculiar  symbol,  utterly 
untranslatable  to  the  mass  of  men.  On  his 
finger  he  wore  a  ring,  the  seal  being  a  highly 
polished  gem,  cut  in  Egyptian  hieroglyphics  not 
easily  understood.  Otherwise  he  was  free  of  orna 
ment,  and  unobtrusive  as  to  attire. 

He  stood  during  the  whole  interview,  and  though 
utterly  still  as  to  body,  he  had  such  an  appearance 
of  action  and  power  that  he  seemed  to  quiver  from 
head  to  foot. 


78  EL  RESHID 

"  Romanes,  you  sent  for  me — I  have  come." 

Romanes  bowed  his  head  even  to  his  breast. 

"  And  may  I  presume  by  this,"  his  voice  trem 
bling,  "  that  I  am  to  be  reinstated?  " 

"What  matters  it?"  answered  El  Reshid,  with 
slight  scorn  in  his  tone.  "  A  society  is  but  a 
shell;  you  had  passed  into  the  kernel — the  worm 
appeared. " 

"  True," — he  evaded  his  guest's  eyes — "  can  the 
injury  be  repaired  ?  " 

The  stern  look  on  El  Reshid 's  countenance  van 
ished  before  Romanes'  pleading  aspect;  his  face 
brightening  with  a  peculiar  smile,  which  had  the 
effect  of  sunlight  flashing  through  clouds. 

"  Romanes,"  he  said,  "  time  may  heal  a  serious 
wound,  but  it  leaves  a  scar.  You  joined  the  Order, 
you  aimed  to  acquire  cetain  powers — the  law  of 
exchange  holds  good  in  the  psychic  world  ;  even 
there  one  pays  for  what  he  gets — it  is  not  a  ques 
tion  of  sentiment,  but  of  fair  dealing.  You  agreed 
to  give  a  certain  price  for  a  certain  return  ;  you 
understood  very  well  what  that  necessitated  ;  to 
acquire  one  thing,  you  gave  up  another;  you  were 
not  persuaded,  you  volunteered.  For  many  years 
you  were  true  to  the  transaction ;  your  dividends  on 
the  investment  were  large;  you  acquired  powers 
and  secrets  which,  abused,  might  make  of  you  a 
fiend.  Already,  at  this  stage,  you  were  master  of 
circumstances  and  men;  but  alas!  not  of  yourself. 

Though  unable  to  hurt  the  Order  in  a  vital  part, 


KL  RESHID  79 

you  injured  your  own  life,  and  threw  us  into  con 
fusion.  The  result  of  the  fall  from  a  pure  love,  with 
no  taint  in  it,  which  was  sanctioned  by  us,  was  the 
child  Aleppo,  upon  whom  you  entailed,  when  he 
came  out  of  Eden,  a  life  of  sacrifice.  You  have 
thrust  earthly  existence  on  him  under  conditions 
that  will  be  well  nigh  fatal  to  his  peace  of  mind. 
Endowed  with  the  powers  (from  close  affinity  with 
yourself  and  Helene)  of  the  Rajah,  at  the  same 
time  cursed  with  your  physical  fall,  he  stands  to  the 
world  in  a  far  different  aspect  from  one  born  in 
ordinary  sanctioned  or  unsanctioned  wedlock ;  from 
parents  living  according  to  the  rhythmic  law  of  nor 
mal  man.  You  have  stolen  an  angel  from  the  skies 
and  thrust  him  into  the  mud.  Having  crossed  the 
Rubicon  of  the  flesh,  you  turned  back,  and,  canni 
bal  that  you  were,  ate  from  a  table  where  your  own 
kind  are  devoured.  But  regrets  are  vain — 'tis 
done.  The  nemesis  of  Fate,  which  is  nothing 
other  than  a  wolf-fanged,  devil-eyed  causation,  is 
throwing  her  effects  at  your  guilty  head.  You  are 
bruised  and  bleeding.  Results,  full-grown,  give 
heavy  blows.  For  seventeen  years  you  have  striven 
to  forget,  and  to  thrust  from  your  life  a  lotus 
flower,  that  told  its  grievances  to  the  moon — for 
seventeen  years  you  have  obeyed  strictly  the  laws 
of  the  Order,  and  have  striven  by  penance  to  undo 
your  mistake  ;  to  an  extent,  you  have  won.  Time 
passes  you  and  leaves  no  finger  marks,  you  speak 
the  languages  of  all  races,  sickness  scorns  you,  you 


80  Ely  RESHID 

know  the  secret  of  the  bird  and  the  bee,  you  hear 
the  heart-beat  of  the  flower,  you  behold  the  far-off 
without  eyes  and  revel  in  the  song  of  the  stars 
without  ears,  but  love  is  denied  you  ;  Aleppo  has 
stolen  it  all — his  heart  is  bursting.  The  icy  realm 
of  intellect  is  yours,  but  your  passion,  alas!  is  but  a 
stone. 

"  Forgiveness  !  Ah  !  can  pardons  piled  to  heaven, 
and  sealed  and  stamped,  thrust  out  Aleppo  from 
your  thought  ?  Forgiveness  is  a  word  and  nothing 
more.  Atonement!  Nay,  for  justice  with  its  two- 
edged  sword  is  on  your  track.  What  mortal,  or  im 
mortal,  can  pay  Aleppo's  price  but  you  ? 

"  '  Tis  spoken,  Henrique  Romanes,  thou  shalt  stop 
where  thou  art,  and  in  thy  place  shall  step  thy  son; 
advance,  thou  cannot — 'tis  he  that  marches  on. 
Through  this,  thy  mortal  life,  till  death  doth  free 
thee,  himself  thou  servest ;  on  thy  crushed  body 
shall  he  rise  to  pinnacle  of  power.  In  finding  him, 
thou  shall  discover  age,  the  grave,  Kismet  ! !  This 
life  thou  payest,  but  in  the  next,  thyself  shalt  find 
again." 

He  quivered  from  head  to  foot  with  that  still 
motion  which  the  bird  reveals  when  poised  upon 
the  wing. 

Romanes  looked  El  Reshid  in  the  eyes.  Ro 
manes  !  ! — the  fig  tree  blasted  by  the  Master's 
curse. 

"  '  Tis  thou  hast  spoken  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  I,  for,  by  the  Eternal,  this  is  law" 


EIv  RESHID  81 

He  backed  toward  the  door,  never  taking  his 
eyes  from  his  host,  who  bowed  his  head,  as  he  had 
done  at  his  entrance,  nearly  to  the  floor.  An 
instant's  pause  on  the  threshold,  and  El  Reshid 
had  gone,  leaving  Romanes  hopeless,  fearless — fac 
ing  the  effect  of  a  fatal  past,  with  clear  and  steady 
eyes. 

Rising,  he  staggered  to  his  desk,  for  his  firm  step 
had  left  him,  and,  finding  pen  .and  paper,  began 
immediately  to  write  ;  his  letter  ran  thus: 

' '  Helene  : 

"  I  am  at  last  calm;  El  Reshid  has  been  with  me 
for  one-half  hour.  I  am  neither  happy  nor  sad; 
hope  and  fear  I  know  not.  I  shall  fly  no  longer 
from  the  effect  of  a  cause  that  it  will  take  my  whole 
Unit  of  being  to  face,  for  '  it  is  spoken.' 

"  El  Reshid  will  stand  behind  Aleppo — he  has 
said  as  much — he  will  reveal  him  to  me  when  the 
time  is  ripe.  Though  you  and  I  can  never  unlearn 
that  w^ich  is  ours — though  in  no  sense  can  we  go 
back  in  mind  and  comprehension,  our  bodies  will 
pay  the  price  of  this  new  object  upon  which  our 
energy  must  needs  be  spent.  This  is  Law — the 
unit  of  strength  which  has  been  ours,  and  which, 
by  certain  principles  that  we  have  learned,  we  have 
utilized  to  keep  ourselves  in  perfect  poise  and 
health,  must  now  be  directed  toward  another  end. 
Force  is  constant ;  there  is  power  within  to  gen 
erate  the  same  in  limited  degree;  directing  it  all,  as 


S2  EL  RESHID 

injustice  we  must  henceforth  do,  in  a  never  vary 
ing  endeavor  to  further  the  welfare  of  our  natural 
son,  our  bodies  must  needs  wither  with  age  and 
stiffen  in  death. 

"  Helene,  my  eternal  love,  we,  we  must  die!  " 

"I  am  utterly  calm;  we  have  but  a  tew  more 
years,  and  you — feel  you  the  same?  Can  you 
watch  that  pink  pearl  face,  in  its  fading,  day  by 
day — a  veritable  blush  rose,  wilting  in  the  cruel 
light  of  an  avenging  cause;  can  you  bear  that  your 
eyes  retire  far  back  into  your  head,  to  look  out  on 
the  world  through  the  blear  of  age  ;  can  you  toler 
ate  the  sight  of  your  sun-lit  hair  turning  to  gray, 
crisp  and  withered  like  sere  grass  ?  Will  you  suffer 
the  twinges  of  pain  and  the  gnawing  of  the  worm  ? 

"  Ah,  Helene,  I  fear  you.  For  me,  you  would 
go  to  the  rack;  but  for  the  thief,  Aleppo,  who  stole 
me  from  you,  I  have  great  dread.  Already  you 
are  in  the  clutches  of  Issachar,  whose  magic  is 
beyond  me — the  war  is  on.  The  Unit  of  Energy 
shifts  rapidly  from  pole  to  pole — the  light  of  heaven 
is  eclipsed  at  high  noon,  and  the  dark  brings  forth 
a  midnight  sun. 

"Helene,  consider  well  your  far-off  future — the 
unborn  child  of  this  fateful  hour. 

Yours, 

ROMANES." 

Romanes  always  wrote  and  spoke  with  a  roman 
tic  dignity,  seemingly  far-fetched  to  the  occidental, 
but  normal  to  the  oriental  soul. 


EL  RESHID  83 

Having  sealed  and  addressed  his  letter,  he  stag 
gered  like  one  drunk,  through  the  long  hall,  out  on 
to  the  front  vestibule,  where  the  storm  struck  him 
in  the  face.  However,  he  found  a  box  in  which 
he  placed  his  missive,  where,  strange  to  say,  he 
discovered  another  addressed  to  himself,  or  rather 
an  old  envelope,  covered  with  the  scrawls  of  a  lead 
pencil.  He  knew  it  instantly,  and  though  written 
in  Hindoo  dialect  he  read  to  the  end  without 
difficulty. 

' '  Romanes — Brother,  I  pause  to  address  you  a 
note  before  leaving.  It  is  the  last  that  I  shall 
direct  to  you,  personally,  in  this  life.  But  you  will 
receive  many  letters  from  me  for  Aleppo,  and  these 
it  will  be  your  duty  to  forward  to  him.  Direct 
always,  '  Aleppo  Bracciolini,  Cairo.'  Wherever  he 
may  be,  they  will  reach  him.  Do  not  in  any  way 
betray  your  identity  nor  mine  ;  simply  mail  the 
papers  sent  by  me  to  his  address,  and  leave  the 

result  to — himself. 

Yours,     ' 

EL  RESHID." 

Romanes  bit  his  lips,  which  had  turned  pale, 
and  found  his  way  into  his  library,  where  he  closed 
and  locked  the  door;  then,  throwing  himself  face 
downward  on  *the  floor,  gave  way  to  hysterical  sob 
bing,  unnatural  in  a  man,  and  hitherto  unexper 
ienced  by  himself  since  reaching  the  condition  of 
prime.  His  calmness,  which  had  been  a  sort  of 


84  EL  RESHID 

inertia  after  intense  excitement,  had  utterly  aban 
doned  him;  he  had  lost  his  nerve,  and  his  convul 
sive  sobs  were  pitiful  to  hear.  Though  a  man  with 
the  cold  wisdom  of  a  sage,  yet  was  he  entirely 
undone  by  a  spasm  of  jealous  pain.  Enslaved  not 
by  physical  passion,  not  by  its  results,  his  towering 
genius  and  cool  logic  had  no  power  over  the 
petty  fires  of  a  half-dead  heart.  His  grand  passion 
smouldering,  tingled  and  burned  him  with  the  darts 
of  a  small  flame.  He  was  jealous  of  Aleppo;  his 
flesh  and  blood  stood  not  only  between  him 
self  and  Helene,  but  usurped  his  place  with  the 
beloved  teacher  to  whom  he  had  bowed  to  the 
floor.  Those  precious  letters,  which  should  have 
been  his  own,  were  to  be  transferred  to  his  more 
fortunate  son ;  and  he,  an  Ishmaelite,  was  to  bear 
them  across  the  desert  of  his  life  with  their  un 
sealed  covers  laying  a  dead  weight  on  his  heart. 

For  an  hour  he  hated  Aleppo  with  the  hate  of 
Helene,  but  no  longer;  the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  like 
a  dove  from  a  clear  sky,  stole  into  his  life,  bearing 
the  green  leaf  in  its  beak.  He  kissed  the  crum 
pled  envelope,  on  which  was  inscribed  El  Reshid's 
name,  passionately,  and  taking  from  his  breast  the 
letter  written  years  before  by  Helene,  placed  the 
two  together,  and  buried  in  his  own  bosom  the 
grand  passion  of  his  life.  Then,  standing  before  the 
long  mirror,  where  a  strong  light  fell,  he  carefully 
scanned  his  troubled  face.  He  was  older — a  pallor 
of  the  skfu  and  lifelessness  of  the  eye,  told  of 


OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLES  85 

change.  He  remembered  El  Reshid's  countenance, 
as  he  had  seen  it  that  evening — that  of  a  man  of 
thirty;  almost  boyish  in  its  purity  of  color  and 
fire  of  glance;  he  recalled  his  erect  carriage  and 
quick  action;  his  abrupt  and  positive  speech;  his 
radiant  smile;  and  then,  sighing,  he  turned  sadly 
from  the  glass  where,  in  after  life,  he  never  looked 
again. 


CHAPTER   VII. 
OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLES. 

Our  party  of  five,  headed  by  Regan,  had  steamed 
out  of  the  Adriatic  and  were  off  the  Ionian  Isles. 
Sallus,  healthy  on  shore,  had  gone  to  bed  sick,  so 
also  had  Mrs.  Hancock.  Aleppo,  possessed  by 
strange  dreams  of  late,  was  crooning  to  the  moon 
alone  ;  while  Regan  and  Rhea,  ridiculously  well, 
had  arranged  two  steamer  chairs  in  most  com 
fortable  quarters,  and,  between  watching  the  play 
of  the  moonlight  on  the  waters  of  the  Mediterra 
nean,  and  discoursing  on  subjects  divine  and  infer 
nal,  were  having  the  best  kind  of  time.  Mrs.  Han 
cock  was  utterly  disgusted  with  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken  ;  Regan  was  well  enough — rich,  to  be  sure, 
but  a  married  man.  Nothing  that  Rhea  couid  have 
done  would  have  so  set  her  aunt  on  edge  as  this 
flirtation,  so  she  called  it,  with  the  father  of  two 


fcf,  KL  RKSIIID 

boys.     He  had  stated  that  his  wife  was  dead,  but 
she  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it. 

"It's  the  way  with  the  men;  when  they  go 
traveling,  they  leave  their  wives,  not  only  at  home, 
but  out  of  their  memories.  Writing  to  a  wife  in 
heaven,  nonsense!  Didn't  you  see  how  the  boys 
tripped  him  ?  " 

"I  don't  care  a  straw,"  said  Rhea,  tossing  her 
head,  "whether  he  is  married  or  single;  he  is 
the  first  man  that  I  have  ever  met  that  I  could 
talk  sense  to." 

"Sense!!  Such  stuff — Theosophy,  reincarna 
tion,  Piato,  induction." 

As  much  scorn  as  could  be  condensed  into  words, 
she  packed  into  these;  but  it  did  no  good.  Rhea 
and  Regan  were  inseparable;  and  the  boys,  after 
listening  to  one  or  two  of  the  conversations  car 
ried  on  between  them,  were  quite  content  to  be 
left  out,  preferring  her  ravishing  smiles  which 
she  was  very  indiscriminate  in  bestowing,  to  her 
puzzling  medley  of  phantasy  and  logic,  that  Regan 
took  in  with  pitcher-plant  ears. 

As  I  have  said,  they  were  on  the  steamer  deck; 
it  was  moonlight  and  balmy,  with  an  ideal  sea 
and  sky. 

"So,"  said  Rhea,  after  humming  a  snatch  of 
opera,  "you  don't  exactly  grasp  reincarnation  ?" 

"  Not  exactly,' ' — he  wished  that  he  did — "you 
see,  somehow,  I  take  more  kindly  to  evolution, 
though,  after  all,"  brightening,  "I  don't  discover 


OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLES  87 

much  difference;  if  you  have  come  up  from  the 
oyster  to  Miss  Nellino,  you've  been  in  some  sort 
of  flesh  all  along,  haven't  you?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Bracciolini,  I  very  much 
fear  that  the  evolutionist  makes  no  claim  to  an 
extended  individuality.  I  suspect  the  fellow  that 
animated  a  certain  far-back  oyster  isn't  the  one  that 
animates  Mr.  Bracciolini  to-day,  according  to  the 
believers  in  the  survival  of  the  fittest." 

"  Maybe  'tisn't;  but  now  I  have  put  in  an  appear 
ance,  I've  come  to  stay." 

"There  is  the  trouble,"  said  Rhea,  brusquely, 
"  why  do  you  object  to  extending  me  backward  as 
well  as  ahead  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  I  would  be 
of  much  better  proportions  to  have  a  past  that  in 
some  degree  balances  what  is  to  come. ' ' 

"To  that  I  haven't  the  least  objection,  Miss 
Nellino;  the  longer  you  are,  the  better — there  can't 
be  too  much  of  you  any  way  you  fix  it.  Shake 
hands  on  that,  will  you  ?  " 

They  had  grown  quite  accustomed  to  shaking 
hands.  Whenever  they  came  to  terms,  Regan 
shouted,  "  shake  !  "  and  Rhea's  pretty  fingers 
were  grabbed  with  a  daring  that  shamed  the 
boys. 

They  shook,  and  Rhea  continued  ; 

"  Of  course,  it  may  be  all  a  dream  ;  I  am  pos- 
pibly  a  clod,  that  appears  but  once  in  human 
shape,  or  any  other,  but  I  do  like  consistency. 
I  am  one  of  two  things,  or  logic  is  a  fake — either 


88 

au  eternal  being,  or  not  ;  now  if  my  life  is  endless, 
there  never  was  a  time  when  I  didn't  exist,  and 
never  will  be  one  when  I  shall  not  be.  If,  on  the 
contrary,  I  am  simply  mortal — the  puppet  of  a 
capricious  deity — I  shall  turn  to  dust  when  I  die, 
and  go  back  to  the  nothing,  as  regards  individ 
uality,  from  which  I  came." 

"  It  seems  to  me  there's  no  getting  around  that," 
said  Regan. 

"Which?" 

"  Either  one." 

"  I  have  to  establish  myself  somewhere  or  no 
where.  The  inconsistency  of  nine  out  of  ten  of 
the  religions,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cults,  makes 
me  shudder.  I  am  either  an  out  and  out  materialist, 
who  believes  in  this  life  and  no  other,  or  the  rankest 
spiritualist  that  ever  was  born — that  is,  I  have  an 
indestructible  past  that  always  was  and  ever  shall 
be.  Which  is  it,  Mr.  Bracciolini  ?  " 

"  I  expect  it's  the  latter,  as  far  as  you  are  con 
cerned." 

He  really  had  not  made  up  his  mind,  nor  could 
he  without  his  tobacco.  He  had  taken  to  chewing 
gum  since  his  acquaintance  with  Rhea,  but  it  was 
a  failure.  He  had  been  a  slave  to  his  one  habit  so 
many  years  that  even  Rhea  and  evolution  were 
insufficient  to  free  him.  A  sudden  craving  came, 
that  broke  the  conversation  at  its  very  climax.  He 
complained  of  dizziness  of  the  head,  and  Rhea, 


OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLES  89 

laughingly,  said  that  he  was  sea-sick,  dismissing 
him  forthwith. 

The  next  morning  he  was  still  to  evil  habits  in 
clined,  and  his  chair  being  vacant,  Aleppo  slipped 
into  it.  He  was  to  have  it  all  his  own  way.  The 
lynx-eyed  Mrs.  Hancock  was  very  ill;  Sallus beyond 
the  throes  of  love,  and  Regan  in  solitary  bliss,  like 
an  isolated  cow  chewing  her  cud. 

Rhea  glanced  Aleppo  over  and  decided  that  he 
was  a  very  different  figure  from  Regan — much 
handsomer,  much  younger,  and  not  a  bit  like  his 
father.  He  had  puzzled  her  from  the  first — there 
was  a  page  back  of  him  that  she  could  not  read. 

Mysteries  are  fascinating,  and  he  "  put  a  spell  " 
upon  Rhea  at  once.  Now,  in  reality  he  admired 
Miss  Nellino  amazingly,  but  as  yet  he  had  but  little 
tact;  and  any  man,  young  or  old,  who  is  without 
tact,  i-i,  in  slang  phrase,  "  in  a  peck  of  trouble." 

"  You  quite  puzzle  me,  Miss  Nellino,"  naively — 
"sometimes  I  take  you  for  sixteen  and  sometimes 
for  forty." 

"O  my!— forty." 

"  Well,  you  see,  when  Sal  and  I  first  saw  you  in 
Brindisi,  we  thought  you  were  in  your  teens;  later 
we  changed  our  minds,  and  I  told  Sal  that  I  thought 
you  could  not  be  less  than  forty." 

"  On  what  did  you  found  this  wise  conclusion — 
did  the  sunlight  bring  out  some  wrinkles  when  you 
beheld  me  next  day  in  its  cruel  glare  ?  " 

"  No,  'twasn't  that;   I  can't  see  any  wrinkles  in 


90  EL  RESHID 

your  face  now,  and  I  am  sure  the  sun  is  bright 
enough — but  you  talk  on  subjects  that  most  women 
of  forty  take  up." 

"Do  you  know  a  great -deal  about  women?" 
asked  Rhea,  exceedingly  interested — 

Aleppo  sighed.  "  Not  as  much  as  I  would  like; 
you  see  I  had  Aunt  Serena,  and  I  have  met  a  few 
girls  in  traveling. ' ' 

He  looked  at  Rhea  adoringly.  She  had  a  fresh, 
pure  countenance  which  the  sun  improved;  her 
jaunty  sailor  hat  was  rather  back  on  her  head,  and 
her  rebellious  brown  hair,  having  its  own  way. 
She  had  the  philosopher's  square  brow,  the  poet's 
eye,  and  the  mouth  of  a  Venus,  with  its  pretty 
smile  and  dimples — altogether  she  was  a  "  rare 
bird. ' ' 

"I  think,"  said  Aleppo,  "of  all  the  girls  on 
earth  that  I  have  ever  seen,  I  like  the  American 
girls  the  best." 

"But  you  have  not  placed  me, "  said  Rhea  laugh 
ing — ' '  am  I  a  girl  or  not  ? ' ' 

''That  is  what  puzzles  me,"  said  Aleppo 
seriously. 

"  Well  I  will  tell  you,  so  that  you  may  set  your 
mind  forever  at  rest — I  an  just  twenty-six." 

' '  Ah !  He  was  not  quite  sure  yet  where  to  put 
her,  and  he  looked  straight  out  at  sea. 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  persisted  Rhea. 

"  You  are  better  than  either,"  he  answered — you 
look  sixteen  and  talk  forty." 


OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISUiS  91 

"  But  most  women  of  forty  are  as  unendurably 
stupid  as  mother-hens." 

"  Not  all,"  said  Aleppo  with  an  air  as  though  he 
knew,  though  he  did  not.  "  Now  I've  the  chance,  " 
he  went  on.  "I  want  to  confide  something  to  you." 

Rhea's  heart  beat  faster.  Regan  had  never  raised 
her  pulse  in  the  least — was  she  falling  in  love  ?  She 
hoped  not. 

"  It  is  about  Sallus — I  want  you  to  like  him." 

Rhea  was  piqued.  In  reality  Aleppo  was  on  the 
verge  of  making  a  great  sacrifice.  He  was  half  in 
love  with  the  beautiful  American  himself.  He 
longed  to  put  his  arms  about  her  and  kiss  her  on 
both  cheeks,  in  spite  of  "  Miss  Somebody  ' '  or  any 
body — she  was  so  sweet  that  morning,  yet  in 
spite  of  it  all,  he  was  going  to  bestow  her  upon 
Sallus. 

Women  are  queer  composites,  every  one  of  them 
— even  the  most  sensible  is  vain;  hurt  her  vanity 
and  you  set  every  nerve  quivering.  Rhea  was  no 
exception  ;  she  was  wonderfully  charmed  with 
Aleppo,  and  wanted  him  for  a  dear,  dear  friend — 
nothing  more  of  course,  she  said  to  herself.  His 
half-oriental  face,  his  innocence,  the  veiled  genius 
of  his  eyes,  the  mystery  of  the  boy,  had  stormed 
her  heart.  He  had  implied  that  he  liked — yes, 
more — adored  her  on  this  very  morning,  and  just 
at  the  point  where  she  felt  that  their  friendship  was 
about  to  be  sealed,  he  had  turned  her  over  to  Sallus. 


92  EL  RESHID 

For  a  moment  she  hated  him-— he  caught  her  mood, 
and  was  silent. 

"Goon" — her  tone  a  little  hard.  He  was  "in 
for  it,"  and  he  went  deeper  and  deeper. 

"It  is  this  way,"  he  said  haltingly,  "  though  I 
expect  Sallus  would  hate  me  for  telling,  yet  it  is  for 
his  own  good.  Regan  and  I  are  pulling  him  up  a 
little;  he  had  got  down  pretty  low — and  it  was  not 
his  fault  either." 

"  Who's  Regan  ?"  said  Rhea  tartly. 

Aleppo  was  caught,  and  he  lied  stupidly  ;  how 
ever,  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

"  Regan?  that's  my  father — we  always  call  him 
Regan  at  home.  He  says  it  makes  him  feel  more 
like  a  boy — hem  !  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Rhea,  her  lip  curling. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  it  is  not  Sallus'  fault. 
He  was  brought  up  on  wine  and  champagne — 
always  on  his — our — father's  table — understand? 
Regan  is  to  blame  "—Aleppo  was  blushing  to  his 
ears. 

"Now,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  that,"  said 
Rhea,  bridling;  there  is  no  better  man  than  Mr. 
Bracciolini  on  earth." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Aleppo,  gaining  gall  as  he 
went  deeper.  "Father  is  all  right,  and  did  not 
realize  till  the  last  year  or  so,  what  it  would  come 
to  with  Sallus — that  is  why  we  are  here;  and  he  is 
doing  better  too.  I  am  sure  Miss  Nellino,"  he 
sighed,  "  I  am  sure  you  can  help  him.  It  is  the 


OFF  THE  IONIAN  ISLKS  93 

craving  that  bothers  him  now.  Once  he  gets  over 
that,  he  is  all  right — dantiest  creature  you  ever  saw, 
and  so  handsome." 

He  looked  pleadingly  into  Rhea's  eyes.  She  bit 
her  lip  and  winked  hard  to  keep  from  crying — not 
for  Sallus,  but  for  herself.  It  was  very  bitter  to 
have  the  first  fascination  of  her  life  snapped  in  this 
way,  and  by  an  innocent  sinner  too.  She  could  not 
say,  "Aleppo  be  my  friend  first  and  foremost,  and  we 
will  work  together  for  Sallus" — not  at  all.  She 
was  so  little  thought  of  by  him,  she  argued  to  her 
self,  that  he  was  using  her  like  a  missionary,  or 
Salvation  Arm}'  woman — as  a  means  to  an  end. 
He  was  making  of  her  a  cat's  paw  to  pull  Sallus 
out  of  the  fire — so  she  felt,  and  the  emotion  was 
hard  to  bear. 

' '  If  you  could  but  be  a  mother  to  him,"  went  on 
jtss&tts,  blundering  more  and  more  in  his  vain 
endeavor  to  right  himself. 

"  Now  look  here,  Mr.  Aleppo,  I  was  scarcely 
four  years  of  age  at  the  most,  when  Sallus  was  born. 
I  am  not  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  nor  do  I 
desire  in  the  least  to  assume  the  maternal  role, 
especially  to  an  adopted  son ;  on  no  conditions 
would  I  take  a  boy  to  bring  up." 

Aleppo  was  confounded,  he  failed  to  understand 
why  Rhea  was  so  emphatic. 

"lam  sorry,  Miss  Nellino,  I  am  afraid  I  have 
made  a  mistake." 

Rhea's   mood   changed   instantly ;    Aleppo   was 


94  EL  RKSHID 

unhappy.  She  took  the  boy's  hand  and  pressed  it 
softly — "  There  dear  friend,  I'll  do  what  I  can  for 
Sallus.  He  is  perfectly  safe  at  present — in  bed ; 
between  the  three  of  us,  I  am  sure  he  will  not  go 
wrong;  and  if  he  should,  later — we  will  turn  him 
over  to  Mrs.  Hancock." 

"O  no,  not  to  Mrs.  Hancock,"  said  Aleppo  re 
coiling — "please  promise  me"— reaching  and 
taking  her  hand  again,  it  made  him  so  happy  to 
hold  it.  "  Please  promise  me  that  you  will  never 
speak  of  this  conversation  to  Sallus  or  Regan;  it  is 
because  I  love  Sallus  so  much,  and  believe  so 
entirely  in  you,  that  I  have  mentioned  this." 

Her  pique  was  gone.  She  felt  a  sudden  desire  to 
force  Sallus  inside  the  narrow  gate  of  the  straight 
way,  even  though  she  remained  outside  herself. 
Aleppo  still  held  her  hand,  and  looked  so  supremely 
content,  that  she  felt  that  in  spite  of  Sallus  and  the 
whole  world,  she  had  in  him  a  dear  friend  whose 
love  would  be  of  heaven. 

There  was  something  about  Aleppo  that  lifted 
one  upward  in  thought — a  fine  magnetism  which 
inspired  and  fascinated.  The  purity  of  the  boy's 
intent,  together  with  the  dream  world  in  which  he 
lived — his  innocence  and  virile  power  produced  the 
effect  of  glamour,  and  whoever — especially  of  the 
feminine  sex — came  near  him,  was  charmed.  He 
longed  for  love  and  one  felt  it,  yet  at  the  same  time, 
he  was  so  selective  and  exacting,  that  but  few  were 
allowed  near. 


CAIRO  95 

Rhea  had  sighed  from  childhood  for  a  friend — one 
whose  heart-beat  she  could  feel.  Friendship  .to  her 
was  the  ideal — the  supreme;  it  had  no  taint  of  earth 
on  it.  In  vain  she  had  sought  consciously  or  uncon 
sciously  among  women  and  men,  and  though  she 
found  comrades  here  and  there,  no  friend  had  been 
her's — but  Aleppo  !  If  he  would  but  sit  beside  her, 
they  would  utter  no  sound — the  speech  of  silence 
would  be  their 's,  happy — happy — happy.  The  vast 
expanse  of  sea,  the  vaster  sky,  the  long  infinite 
line,  where  earth  weds  heaven,  and  the  music — the 
subtle  half-heard  music,  which  two  hear  better 
than  one.  Just  here,  (they  were  both  dreaming, 
hand  in  hand)  Regan  appeared. 

"Aleppo,  Sallus  wants  you  ;  says  he's  going  to 
get  up." 

The  tables  had  turned.  Aleppo  had  no  longing 
for  Sallus;  he  suddenly  remembered,  however,  that 
he  had  disposed  of  Miss  Nellino,  and  with  this  re 
collection  came  a  spasm  of  despair.  He  looked 
wistfully  at  Rhea  who  translated  it  all,  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
CAIRO. 

Indue  time,  "the  five,"  as  they  called  them 
selves,  reached  Alexandria,  and  later  steamed  into 
Cairo,  where  they  expected  to  remain  for  some 
time. 


96  EL  RESHID 

Though  Aleppo  had  never  been  in  the  Orient, 
except  at  Scutari,  this  first  glimpse  of  Africa,  and 
his  nearness  to  Syria,  had  a  strange  effect  upon  him 
— he  grew  more  and  more  introspective,  and  less 
inclined  to  talk,  except  to  Rhea,  who  was  so  in 
demand  on  all  sides,  that  he  obtained  but  little 
chance  with  her.  She  had  taken  Sallus  "  in  tow," 
as  Regan  expressed  it. 

"  The  peculiar  charm  of  Egypt,"  she  went  on — 
the  beauty-loving  boy  drinking  in  every  word — 
"  lies  in  its  long  lines;" — they  were  rushing  toward 
Cairo — "  even  the  camels  move  in  a  string,  and  the 
date  palms  are  slender  and  tall.  Egypt  is  entirely 
consistent  with  itself.  The  Nile,  the  green  fields, 
the  mud  huts,  the  date  gardens,  the  azure,  wonder 
ing  morning-glories,  which  stare  with  open  eyes  all 
day;  the  Arabs  in  blue  gowns;  the  dome  and  mina 
ret;  the  eternal  sky,  beside  which  the  camel 
marches  with  the  dignity  of  a  ship  at  sea;  the 
Ivibyan  sands,  glittering  like  jewels  in  the  sun;  the 
majestic  pyramids,  tawny  with  age;  the  Sphinx, 
with  fixed  and  untranslatable  eyes,  gazing  straight 
ahead." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Hancock,  lis 
tening  with  disgust  on  her  face  at  Rhea's  rhapsody, 
"but  it's  the  greatest  country  for  flies  on  earth  ; 
they  stick  all  over  the  Arab  babies,  which  I  don't 
believe  have  ever  been  washed  since  they  were 
born." 

"You  see,"  put  in  Regan,  "if  old  Pharoah  had 


CAIRO  97 

given  these  Israelites  half  a  show,  he  wouldn't 
have  got  '  cussed  '  as  he  was." 

"  Nothing  grows  here,"  went  on  Mrs.  Hancock, 
"  unless  you  give  it  water;  you  are  not  sure  of  any 
rain,  and  the  glare  is  something  terrible.  I  never 
realized  what  a  pretty  place  New  England  is,  till  I 
came  down  into  Egypt." 

"  You  are  not  up  to  the  majesty  of  straight  lines, 
I  suspect,"  said  Regan.  "  Now,  Rhea — 

"  Yes,  it's  always  and  forever  Rhea;  Rhea  this  and 
Rhea  that.  If  she  chose  to  rhapsodize  on  an  ant 
hill  it  would  be  beautiful  in  men's  eyes.  She  raves 
more  over  ugly  things  than  she  does  over  any  per 
son  on  earth.  I've  half  a  mind  to  set  her  down  on 
the  desert  and  leave  her  there;  she'd  change  her 
tune,  I  imagine." 

Mrs.  Hancock  was  all  out  of  sorts.  Her  sea 
sickness  had  made  her  cross,  and  the  three  unwel 
come  traveling  companions  aggravated  her  troubles. 
The  "  boys  "  disliked  her  and  she  knew  it;  while 
Regan,  she  hated  on  principle.  The  more  Rhea 
appreciated  her  new  friends,  the  more  her  aunt  dis 
trusted  them,  taking  every  opportunity  to  imply 
that  they  were  not  what  they  pretended  to  be,  and 
so  forth,  and  so  on;  which  Rhea,  in  spite  of  her 
admiration,  half  suspected  was  true.  She  felt  that 
she  .was  entering  the  land  of  mystery  with  three 
riddles  to  guess,  more  puzzling  than  the  unsolved 
Sphinx  itself.  And  of  the  three,  Aleppo  had  her 
thoughts  the  most.  They  arrived  at  Cairo  each  in  a 


98  EL  RESHID 

perturbed  state  of  mind.  Mrs.  Hancock  cross 
and  suspicious,  Rhea  puzzled,  and  half  in  love 
with — she  knew  not  what.  Sallus,  swinging 
between  qualms  of  a  persistent  sea-sickness  and 
spasms  of  delight;  Regan,  minus  tobacco,  and 
cursing  gum;  Aleppo,  in  a  dream,  disturbed  now 
and  then  by  a  strange  influence,  which,  in  all  his 
life,  he  had  never  felt  before,  that  seemed  to  be 
drawing  him  from  these  new-found  friends,  far,  far, 
to  a  life  of  isolation  and  sacrifice. 

Over  him  still  hung  the  dread  of  the  Jew.  He 
had  fled  to  the  "  Black  Land  ' '  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  escape  this  cursed  vision,  but  in  memory 
Issachar  still  hovered — a  veritable  buzzard,  ready 
to  pounce  upon  him  and  pick  his  bones.  Even 
Khem,  guarded  by  deserts  and  hemmed  in  by  a 
rampart  of  low  mountains,  might  be  accessible  to 
this  son  of  L,eah.  Aleppo  was  at  the  gate  of  Africa. 
The  dull,  yellow  Nile,  sometimes  shading  into 
brown,  went  unconcernedly  by.  The  bare  rocks, 
tawny  in  hue,  made  a  rhapsody  of  color,  as  sweet, 
in  its  way,  as  is  music  beneath  the  deep  azure  of 
the  sky.  Unobtrusive  as  to  outline,  marvelous  in 
tint — Egypt — uniform,  various,  unique,  mysterious, 
set  his  heart  palpitating  with  a  kind  of  rapture 
that  the  Occident  had  never  roused.  But  when,  at 
times,  the  still  fog  of  the  Nile  veiled  the  vivid 
green  of  the  far-stretching  fields,  the  dread  of  the 
mystery  of  himself,  the  seeming  antiquity  of  Issa 
char,  the  future  which  Tsis  had  concealed,  so 


CAIRO  99 

enwrapt  and  subdued   him,  that  his  eyes  took  on  a 
look  of  melancholy  that  Rhea,  alone,  observed. 

The  age  of  Egypt  forced  Aleppo  to  feel  his  own. 
The  awful  weight  of  years,  that  lay  prone  upon  the 
pyramids,  yet  insufficient  to  subdue  them,  pressed 
on  himself  also,  as  though  he  had  been  and  been 
since  earth  began,  yet  stable  still,  a  changeless 
entity  of  change,  a  paradox,  a  sphinx.  And  the 
mystery  of  Libya !  ! — the  jeweled  sands  challenging 
the  sun — stretching  to  their  meeting  place  with 
heaven,  appealed  to  him  in  vague  prophesy,  as 
symbolic  of  himself. 

"  'Tis  the  great  waste  of  water  or  of  land  that 
the  sky  comes  down  to  meet.  Ah,  I/ibya,  thou  art 
myself — barren,  yet  wedded  to  the  blue.  Thou 
bearest  neither  blossom  nor  fruit;  too  well,  too 
2iW?thou  lovest  thy  adored — the  sun." 

In  Egypt  the  poet  in  Aleppo  was  born.  He  had 
studied  art  and  failed,  but  looking  into  the  eyes  of 
Khem,  the  singer,  for  the  first  time,  sang  ;  and  the 
muse,  Rhea,  listened  and  sat  apart. 

'Twas  night.  Aleppo  had  longed  for  Rhea, 
but,  true  to  his  sacrifice,  had  left  her  in  Cairo  with 
Mrs.  Hancock  and  Sallus,  and  substituting  Regan, 
as  best  he  could,  in  her  place,  had  sought  the 
sight  of  Memphis,  where  he  unbosomed  himself  to 
his  friend. 

"You  see,  Regan,"  he  said,  with  a  half  sigh, 
"  I'm  in  a  strange  frame  of  mind.  I  never  felt  far 
different  from  other  boys,  that  I  know  of,  till  after 


100  EL  RESHID 

I  met  Issachar.  Something  happened  to  me  on 
that  morning  in  Venice;  I  told  my  first  lie  and 
have  been  a  changed  being  ever  since.' ' 

"Are  you  unhappy,"  said  Regan,  sympatheti 
cally. 

"Yes,  and  no.  Is  it  possible  to  be  happy  and 
miserable  at  the  same  time?  If  it  is,  I  am  that. 
I  live  in  a  sort  of  rapture,  but  it'  is  shaded  with 
despair.  I  feel  like  a  Rembrandt — one  half  of  me 
in  broad  glare,  the  other  in  the  dark.  I  wonder  if 
heaven  isn't  a  place  that  hangs  over  hell.  Just 
imagine  peeping  out  of  the  pearly  gates  once  in  a 
while,  and  looking  down  into  a  fathomless  abyss, 
blacker  than  midnight.  That  is  my  case,  Regan. 
What's  the  matter  w7ith  me,  can  you  tell?  " 

"  Maybe  you  are  in  love." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  in  love  with  Rhea,"  said 
Aleppo,  simply. 

Regan  winced  perceptibly. 

"  But  that  is  not  it,"  went  on  Aleppo;  "  this  feel 
ing  of  ecstacy  which  comes  on  periodically,  is 
caused  by  Egypt,  I  am  sure,  unless — I  don't 
know,"  here  he  hesitated,  "  unless  some  one  unseen 
is  influencing,  and — yes,  I  must  say  it — loving 
me.  I  feel  as  people  say  they  do  when  Christ 
loves  them.  I  don't  understand  it,  in  my  case  ;  for 
I  never  took  any  stock  in  that  sort  of  thing.  But 
that  is  not  all — I  have  a  horrible  dread  of  Issachar. 
I  never  was  afraid  of  any  mortal  before.  Just 


CAIRO  101 

think,  Regan,  he  made  me  lie.  I'm  living  a  lie 
now;  we  all  are/' 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that,"  said  Regan,  set 
tling  down  in  a  comfortable  frame  of  mind  once 
more,  "  we  are  not  deceiving  Rhea  and  Mrs.  Han 
cock  one  bit;  they  know  we  are  traveling  incognito 
— they've  guessed  it  I  am  sure;  and  we've  a  right 
to  get  over  the  world  that  way  too  ;  even  kings 
doit." 

"Sure,"  said  Aleppo,  somewhat  relieved,  "  but 
that's  not  the  main  thing.  What  I  don't  like  is  the 
power  that  Issachar  wields — no  other  mortal  could 
have  made  me  lie." 

"That's  just  where  it  comes  in,"  said  Regan, 
winking  perceptibly  "  he's  not  mortal,  if  I  know 
myself.  Didn't  I  tell  you  in  Venice,  that  he  was 
older  than  Moses  ?  You  see,  it's  this  way  " — quite 
emphatic,  and  imitating  Rhea's  method  of  debate 
— either  there  are  magicians,  or  there  are  not ;  if 
there  are,  Issachar 's  one.  See?" 

"  What  makes  you  think  so, "  said  Aleppo,  walk 
ing  restlessly  back  and  forth. 

'-  The  look  of  the  man.  No  mortal  ever  looked 
like  that.  He  doesn't  die,  I  tell  you." 

"  Now,  say."  said  Aleppo,  though  inclined  to  be 
credulous,  "do  you  really  believe  that;  no  joking, 
now;  do  you  ?  " 

"I'll  be  switched  if  I  know  what  I  do  believe — 
that's  a  fact.  I  never  was  side-tracked  before.  It's 
Rhea  that's  done  it;  always  knew  where  I  was  at 


102  EL  RESHID 

till  I  met  that  girl,  but  since  then  I've  got  north 
and  south  dreadfully  mixed.  She  believes  more 
trash  than  any  mortal  woman  I  ever  met,  except 
Miss  Dunnigan.  I  knew  a  school-marm  once  that 
could  match  her.  But  Miss  Dunnigan  only  made 
me  more  confirmed  in  my  own  way,  while  Rhea 
knocks  me  all  sixes  and  sevens.  She  has  a  way  of 
laying  down  premises  and  towering  up  to  conclu 
sions  that's  kind  of  dumbfounding.  Of  course,  when 
I  think  of  it  afterward,  I  see  that,  as  likely  as  not, 
her  castle  was  erected  upon  air.  But  I  tell  you 
that  girl  can  reason;  give  her  any  sort  of  a  base 
to  build  on,  and  she'll  make  a  syllogism  out  of  it  or 
my  name's  not  Regan.  That's  where  she's  so  con 
founding  ;  she's  not  a  fool,  and  Miss  Dunnigan 
was. ' ' 

"She's  a  New  England  product,"  said  Aleppo, 
reverently.  He  had  thought  of  Boston  with  a 
species  of  awe. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Regan,  "the  best  type  of  the 
New  Englander  is  like  a  roasted  chestnut — he's 
hot  and  hard.  'Tough  nut,'  burning  inside,  hard 
shell.  You  see  the  climate  is  peculiar,  especially 
down  at  Cape  Cod — hot  as  blazes  in  summer,  regu 
lar  Arctic  in  winter.  That's  Rhea." 

"So,  then,  you  half  believe  he's  a  magician," 
replied  Aleppo,  his  feelings  somewhat  mixed. 

"No,  I  don't,  to  be  downright  in  earnest  ;  but 
bad  men  are  common  as  dirt;  add  shrewdness  and 
intellect  to  one  of  them,  and  you  get  a  fellow  that'll 


CAIRO  103 

match  Satan  himself.  That  mail,  Issachar,  is  dan 
gerous.  See?" 

"  But  what  do  you  suppose  he  wants  with  me?  " 
asked  Aleppo,  anxiously. 

''That's  the  mischief  of  it.  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know.  If  you  had  not  remembered  his  face,  should 
say  that  he  was  after  somebody  else;  but  the  fact 
that  you  recognized  him,  and  that  he  came  after 
one  named  Aleppo,  would  seem  to  indicate  pretty 
strongly  that  he  is  seeking  you." 

"  He  has  my  name  dreadfully  mixed,  it  seems  to 
me.  Romanes!  Who  on  earth  is  Romanes  ?  Can 
it  be  "  here  Aleppo  paused,  shocked  by  a  sudden 
thought.  "  can  it  be  that  that  is  my  real  name  ?  " 

"  Might  be;  stranger  names  have  been  tagged  on 
to  a  fellow  lots  of  times." 

"How  did  I  come  by  the  name  of  Bracciolini, 
then?"  said  Aleppo,  somewhat  dazed. 

"Don't  know,  unless  it  was  bestowed  later,  in 
place  of  the  other.  I  expect  when  you  were  depos 
ited  in  the.  asylum,  you  were  booked  by  that  second 
title — fine  name;  I'm  getting  used  to  it  myself." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  They  found 
their  way  back  to  Cairo.  Aleppo,  uneasy,  yet  with 
a  strange  thrill  at  his  heart,  and  Regan  greatly 
puzzled  about  his  newly  adopted  son.  Patrick 
Regan  was  loyal  to  the  uttermost;  his  heart  had  been 
a  desert  for  many  years,  but  since  these  stray  boys 
had  crept  into  it,  he  had  found  an  object  for  which 
to  live.  Deep  down  in  his  soul  he  had  resolved  to 


104  KL  RESHID 

make  a  man  out  of  Sallus  and  a  son  of  Aleppo — 
they  both  seemed  to  need  him,  and  to  be  needed  in 
the  real  sense,  was  all  of  happiness  that  Regan 
desired.  Aleppo  was  drifting  about  the  world 
alone, — homeless  and  without  kith  or  kin  ;  while 
Sallus,  a  victim  to  an  evil  habit,  was  even  in  a  worse 
condition.  They  had  taken  to  him  from  the 
moment  the  three  had  met,  and  the  pathos  of  their 
earnest  but  wordless  appeal,  had  wrung  his  heart. 
So  Regan  was  determined  to  stick  to  these  two 
young  men  through  thick  and  thin  ;  not  only  for 
their  sakes,  but  for  his  own. 

It  was  late  at  night.  Aleppo,  tired,  had  returned 
from  the  site  of  Memphis,  and  desirous  of  being 
alone,  sought  his  room  at  Shepherds'  and  locked  his 
door.  He  had  met  Rhea  on  the  corridor,  she  had 
smiled  and  touched  his  hand — he  sat  down  to  dream 
of  this.  He  was  always  calling  up  in  memory  a 
look  of  hers  or  a  word,  in  fact  she  seemed  to  haunt 
him,  though  for  the  sake  of  Sallus  he  strove  hard 
to  put  her  out  of  his  thoughts. 

On  the  table  lay  a  pile  of  letters.  After  resting 
a  little,  he  picked  them  up  with  some  curiosity,  as 
he  was  quite  unused  to  an  extended  correspondence. 
Two  or  three  he  found  were  from  stray  acquain 
tances  who  had  happened  to  have  him  in  mind  at 
the  same  time.  Another  was  from  Caesar  Catus,  a 
man  who  had  studied  at  the  same  studio  with  him 
in  Italy — a  half  oriental  who  had  taught  him  to 
write  in  the  Hindoo  dialect  and  a  number  of  other 


CAIRO  105 

things  to  be  discussed  later.  Aleppo  had  taken  a 
great  liking  to  Catus,  and  they  had  kept  up  an 
active  correspondence  since  his  leaving  Italy.  The 
epistle  was  a  long  one;  so  he  laid  it  aside  to  read  at 
his  leisure,  and  took  up  the  last  letter  on  the  tray. 
It  puzzled  him  before  he  laid  his  hand  on  it.  It 
was  mailed  at  Paris,  and  had  arrived  on  time  ;  he 
turned  it  over  and  over  before  opening;  the  writing 
though  strange  gave  him  a  peculiar  sensation — it 
seemed  exactly  like  his  own.  At  last  he  broke  the 
seal  and  found  enclosed  a  smaller  envelope, 
addressed  in  an  entirely  different  hand  and  Hindoo 
dialect — the  very  same  that  he  had  learned  from  the 
artist  Catus. 

Translated,  it  read:  "For  Aleppo  Bracciolini." 
He  lifted  it  reverently — why  he  could  not  tell — 
and  slowly  drew  forth  the  closely  written  pages, 
and  held  them  to  the  light.  His  head  was  dizzy  ; 
he  seemed  to  be  on  the  verge  of  something  won 
derful — was  it  a  narrow  path  at  a  great  height  ? 
For  a  moment  it  was  impossible  to  read;  then,  his 
brain  clearing,  he  traced  out  the  writing  as  well  as 
his  astonished  condition  would  permit.  It  was  as 
follows  : 

"THE  MASTER. 

"  You  have  wondered  a  little  if  there  are  magi 
cians.  Read  carefully  what  follows  and  decide  for 
yourself: 

"  The  world  is  full  of  fads  and  fancies.  The 
Twentieth  Century  is  drawing  near  and  will  usher 


106  EL  RESHID 

in  an  epidemic  of  credulity  fully  a  match  for  the 
wave  of  skepticism  which  has  lately  passed.  Man 
runs  to  extremes — to-day,  he  seeks  the  miracle; 
to-morrow,  normal  fact.  One  hour,  hard  stuck  on 
the  rock  of  science,  the  next,  adrift  on  the  sea  of 
superstition. 

"The idea  has  gone  abroad,  and  is  bolstered  by 
self-styled  philosophers,  and  others,  who  use  the 
credulity  of  men  to  an  end,  that  there  are,  most 
likely,  in  far-off  China  and  the  inaccessible  haunts 
of  Thibet,  great  souls  (Mahatmas)  whose  powers 
are  beyond  compare  —so  great  that  the  term 
'  a  God  '  has  hardly  enough  dignity  to  apply  to 
their  august  selves.  They  are  supposed  to  walk 
on  water,  rise  in  the  air,  pass  through  fire,  transmit 
to  a  long  distance  messages  by  occult  means, 
materialize  letters  at  a  given  point,  appear  and  dis 
appear  before  one's  eyes,  live  countless  years,  or 
die,  to  rise  in  body  from  the  tomb.  To  be  masters 
of  all  tongues,  knowing,  by  intuition,  the  sciences 
and  arts;  backing  and  controlling  large  bodies,  rep 
resenting  various  cults;  behind  societies  and  innu 
merable  organizations;  silent,  secret  dictators,  com 
pared  with  which  the  Council  of  Ten  played  but  a 
child's  foolish  game. 

"  Farther,  mediums  here  and  there,  who  are,  or 
are  not,  as  the  case  may  be,  vehicles  for  the  passages 
of  spirits  from  the  unseen  world  to  this,  have  been 
suddenly  seized  with  the  notion  that  secret  masters, 
still  alive,  are  making  of  them  dignified  agents  to 


CAIRO  107 

do  their  silent  work.  The  fascination  of  this  strange 
encounter  with  a  living  being,  unseen  but  felt,  has 
so  grown  and  flourished  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
town  of  any  size  in  Christendom  that  fails  to  shelter 
one  or  more  of  the  favored  many  who  make  this 
claim. 

"Now,  let  us  sift  the  matter,  once  and  for  all. 
Was  there  ever  smoke  without  a  fire?  Mahatma  ! 
What  means  the  word  ?  Simply  a  great  soul.  Out 
in  the  open,  they  are  often  discovered ;  and  have 
been  since  man  began.  Each  race  has  produced 
them,  from  the  Egyptian  Trismegistus  to  the  Ger 
man  Mozart;  from  the  Greek  Plato,  to  the  Ameri 
can  Edison;  from  the  English  Shakespeare,  to  the 
French  Napoleon  ;  from  the  ancient  Caesar  to 
the  more  modern  Angelo — rare  but  accessible,  and 
proof  positive  of  mastership,  if  proof  need  be. 

' '  If,  in  full  light,  there  come  and  go  men  of 
genius,  is  it  out  of  order  that  there  are  others  who 
walk  in  the  shadow  ? 

"But  let  us  examine  this  'great  soul,'  who 
uncovers  his  head  to  the  sun;  what  manner  of  man 
is  he  ?  Always  a  being  of  power — a  unit  of  energy, 
that  makes  itself  felt  along  the  ages.  We  call  him 
immortal  because  he  will  not  die.  He  persists  in 
remaining  in  memory,  if  nowhere  else.  He  is  as 
little  superior  to  law,  as  is  the  veriest  worm  that 
crawls,  yet  he  differs  from  others  in  that  he  seizes 
upon  and  utilizes  principles  where  they  do  not. 
Instead  of  being  caught  by  lightning,  he,  himself, 


108  EL  RESHID 

catches  it.  He  masters  human  nature,  ere  it  mas 
ter  him.  He  forces  the  marble  into  semblance  of 
life  before  it  marks  his  grave.  He  dominates  num 
bers  by  will,  and  controls  an  army  with  a  silent 
glance.  He  brings  down  heaven  to  the  strings  of 
his  violin,  and  calls  up  hell  by  a  sweep  of  his  bow. 
He  has  power — power.  He  forces  law  to  bear  upon 
law.  This  is  the  Master;  to  that  degree  in  which 
he  has  energy  and  understanding  to  do,  so  much  is 
he  supernatural  and  great.  He  may  be  evil,  he 
may  be  good.  Though  Cosmos  is  now  upon  the 
throne,  while  Chaos,  exiled,  wanders  restless 
across  the  trackless  waste. 

"  Take  note,  the  Master  does  no  miracle.  What 
he  is,  you,  too,  may  be.  Seen  or  unseen,  in  the 
sunshine  or  in  the  dark,  he  moves  upon  the  line  of 
the  least  resistence,  and  reaches  his  goal  by  the 
shortest  route.  Consciously  or  unconsciously,  he 
has  power  to  concentrate  and  is  the  most  deadly 
specialist  on  earth.  Knowingly,  or  unknowingly, 
he  has  the  art  to  generalize  with  a  certainty  that 
amounts  to  a  fiat  of  Fate.  The  Master  sees  the 
soldiers  as  individuals,  and  the  army  as  one.  He 
has  a  sweeping  glance,  and  while  grasping  the 
whole  he  grapples  with  the  parts.  His  eye  is 
quick,  his  grip  is  certain. 

"  Consciously,  or  unconsciously,  he  wastes  no 
energy;  or  if,  unfortunately  he  does,  he  shortens 
his  span  of  natural  life. 

"  He  stamps  his  letters  and  sends  them  through 


CAIRO  109 

the  mail,  and  no  more  makes  something  out  of 
nothing  than  can  the  triune  God.  He  travels  by 
coach  or  by  steam  and  wears  the  garb  of  the  people 
with  whom  he  dwells.  He  is  as  probably  in  New 
York  as  in  Thibet,  as  likely  in  Japan  as  upon  the 
Himalayas. 

"If  in  great  necessity  he  resorts  to  extreme 
measures — to  clairvoyance,  thought-suggestion,  or 
hypnotism,  the  result  is  no  more  a  miracle  than  is 
a  sonata  of  Mozart  or  a  play  of  Moliere.  If  a  spec 
ialist  along  the  line  of  the  occult,  (which  means 
the  generally  unknown)  he  is  as  much  a  slave  of 
law,  as  was  Beethoven  or  Comte.  The  fairy 
web,  spun  by  the  spiders  of  philosophy  to-day,  has 
never  caught  a  true  Mahatma  in  its  mesh.  A 
Spencer  would  tear  it  to  bits,  a  Mill  would  reduce 
it  to  atoms. 

Yet,  in  face  of  this,  we  boldly  state,  that  men 
exist  upon  earth  even  now,  who  have  discovered 
the  elixir  of  life — the  philosopher's  stone  and  the 
secret  of  youth.  They  read  the  pages  of  the  book 
—  Time — backward,  as  well  as  ahead,  and  condense 
the  past  and  the  future  into  to-day.  Having  found 
the  extreme  limits  of  being,  they  have  discovered 
the  poise  of  Nirvana,  and  know  that  the  L,aw  of 
Polarity  means  the  fiery  equator  of  life  itself. 

Yours, 


J3ere  it  ended.     Where   the   name   should  have 
been  was  a  dash.     Aleppo  felt  as  though  suddenly 


110  EL  RESHID 

transferred  from  Cairo  to  a  garden  of  Damascus, 
where  a  subtle  teacher  spake  the  words  on  the 
paper  before  him  into  his  very  ears.  What  could 
it  mean  ?  Was  he  dreaming  ?  The  letter  surely 
was  there — the  strange  symbols,  as  clear  to  his 
mind  as  the  English  alphabet.  Could  it  be  from 
Catus?  He  dismissed  the  thought  at  once.  To 
be  sure,  Catus  had  spoken  at  times  in  the  same 
way,  but  never  with  such  authority.  He,  Aleppo, 
had  come  to  Cairo  to  receive  this  particular  letter; 
of  that  he  was  certain;  what  else  had  brought  him 
here  ?  He  read  it  over  and  over  again,  then,  hiding 
it  both  on  his  person  and  in  his  heart,  went  day 
after  day  through  the  streets  of  Cairo,  as  though 
he  had  it  not. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
AT  THE  SITE  OF  MEMPHIS. 

Aleppo  was  fond  of  the  graveyard  and  mausoleum 
— this  was  an  Oriental  trait.  If  he  desired  to  think 
or  dream,  he  went  among  the  dead.  A  few  days 
after  receiving  the  letter  which  by  its  extreme 
of  mystery  was  rivaling  the  riddle  of  the  sphinx, 
he  sought  the  site  of  Memphis,  taking  a  Nile  boat 
rather  than  the  railway,  and  disembarking  at 
Bedrasheyn.  The  palm  grove  bewitched  him  with 
its  play  of  light  and  shade  among  the  columnar 


AT  THE  SITE  OF  MEMPHIS  111 

trees — things  of  beauty,  all  alike,  with  tufted 
heads, — the  place  was  akin  to  the  joy  and  sorrow 
of  his  heart.  Behind  the  grove  spread  the  fields, 
green,  tilled,  and  wide;  and  from  the  chief  mound 
of  the  ruins  he  beheld  the  extended  landscape  once 
occupied  by  the  city  of  pyramids.  West,  his  eye 
swept  the  limestone  range — a  yellow  wall,  shutting 
out  the  view,  of  itself  undignified,  boasting  neither 
snow-crowned  peaks  nor  mighty  domes,  a  simple, 
monotonous,  golden  chain,  wedded  to  the  pyramids 
which  overtopped  it,  seemingly  as  hoary  as  itself. 
Man  had  vied  with  God,  and  had  built  a  wonder 
which  defied  time,  and  looked  down  upon  the  ever 
lasting  hills. 

Before  Aleppo's  eyes  lay  the  site  of  Memphis 
founded  by  Egypt's  first  king,  but  naught  now 
save  a  heap  of  rubbish,  and  a  few  monumental 
ruins.  Its  temple  pillars  were  firm  and  fast  in  the 
mosques  of  the  thief  Cairo — an  upstart  that  had 
reared  its  head  on  the  ruins  of  a  shrine. 

But  while  he  felt  the  charm  of  the  spot,  he  spent 
but  little  time  in  musing  over  its  sublime  antiquity; 
on  the  contrary,  he  dreamed  of  Damascus,  though 
why,  he  could  not  tell.  The  letter  which  had 
become  a  part  of  himself  was  mailed  at  Paris,  yet 
he  saw  in  vision  a  rose  garden,  wherein  stood  a 
peculiar  little  building,  with  dome-like  roof,  and 
columns  instead  of  walls,  through  which  swept  the 
sweet-scented,  aromatic  air  of  an  out-door  paradise. 
He  tried  to  feel  Memphis,  to  mentally  bend  beneath 


112  EL  RESHID 

its  weight  of  years,  instead,  he  realized  Syria,  and 
the  perfumed  breath  of  the  rose. 

He  was  alone;  he  could  dimly  see  in  the  distance 
a  blue  shirted  Arab,  who  seemed  but  a  part  of  the 
landscape,  and  nothing  more.  He  had  never  be 
held  a  lovelier  sky  than  bent  over  him  on  this  re 
membered  day,  nor  felt  such  aspiration  and  strength 
as  he  was  conscious  of  then. 

He  had  aged  in  Egypt;  the  boy  who  lectured 
Sallus  in  Scutari  had  departed,  and  a  man  stood  on 
the  site  of  Memphis,  and  scanned  the  peaks  of  the 
pyramids.  He  thought  of  Rhea — had  she  made 
him  older  ?  He  believed  so.  To  talk  and  think 
with  her,  he  must  needs  expand.  To  be  sure,  he 
saw  her  only  for  a  few  moments  now  and  then, 
occasionally  he  was  allowed  a  short  walk  or  a  stolen 
chat;  but  Rhea — he  had  gone  thus  far  in  his  dream 
ing  when  on  his  soul  fell  the  music — the  song — he  had 
heard  for  a  lifetime,  which  had  ceased  in  the  land 
of  Khem.  It  was  a  simple  little  melody,  and  these 
were  the  words  : 

SONG. 

I  told  you  that  I  loved  you 
Nor  did  you  listen  then; 
My  voice  was  faint  and  distant 
But  now  I  sing  again. 

I  loved  you  in  the  old  time; 
I  love  you  in  the  new; 
Forever  and  forever 
My  heart  belongs  to  you. 


AT  THE  SITE   OF   MEMPHIS  113 

It  was  all  within  that  he  heard  it ;  the  stillness  with 
out  was  that  of  the  dead.  The  first  verse  was  sung 
softly  and  seemed  to  come  from  far  away;  the 
second,  nearer;  the  words  "  forever  and  forever, "  so 
close  that  he  took  up  the  strain  himself  and  chimed 
in  with  the  beautiful  treble,  as  though  it  were  a 
part  of  his  own  clear  voice.  "  Forever  and  forever 
my  heart  belongs  to  you." 

The  last  word  had  scarcely  fallen  from  his  lips, 
when  he  turned  with  a  start — beside  him,  outlined 
against  the  Egyptian  sky  like  a  resurrected  patriarch 
stood  Issachar,  the  Jew. 

He  was  clothed  in  the  same  immaculate  robe  that 
he  had  worn  in  Venice — without  spot  or  blemish. 
On  his  face  was  the  identical  bright  but  cruel  smile 
betraying  the  teeth  of  a  perfect  animal,  that  Aleppo 
had  beheld  before.  He  bowed  his  head,  and 
approached  the  young  man  who  shrank  from  him, 
looking  wildly  in  all  directions  for  a  spot  in  which 
to  hide. 

"  Pardon — but  I  have  followed  you  here." 

"That  is  quite  evident,"  said  Aleppo  trying  to 
be  brusque. 

"  It  is  important — and  you  evade.  I  seek  Aleppo 
Romanes." 

"  But  have  I  not  told  you  distinctly  and  emphati 
cally  that  I  am  Aleppo  Bracciolini  ?  " 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  Issachar  hissing  his  words  a 
little,  though  extremely  polite — "  you  have  told  me; 
I  do  not  believe. ' ' 


114  EL  RESHID 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Aleppo  pretending  wrath,  though 
his  heart  beat  fast. 

11  Because  Patrick  Regan  is  not  your  sire." 

These  words  came  deliberately  and  with  great, 
dignity,    while    he    looked   with   piercing   glance 
straight  into  Aleppo's  eyes — the  young  man  dropped 
his  lids. 

"  Have  you" — there  was  still  more  of  a  hiss  in 
his  tone — "  have  you  a  mystic  symbol  tattooed  upon 
your  back  ?  " 

Issachar  had  stepped  nearer,  and  Aleppo  realized 
his  towering  height  and  terrible  force  as  though  he 
were  a  mountain  in  a  thunder  cloud.  Cowering, 
the  young  man  endeavored  to  shrink  away,  but  the 
Jew  advanced  toward  him,  using  no  weapons  but 
his  eyes.  Aleppo  had  lost  all  power  to  think,  he 
felt  only  a  presence,  that  like  the  sea  monster  was 
extending  on  every  side  its  long  tentacles  and  draw 
ing  him  to  itself.  He  saw  the  peaks  of  the 
pyramids,  the  walls  of  yellow  hills,  the  receding 
Arab  all  vaguely  melting  and  blending  into  one 
personality,  which  was  that  of  Issachar,  the  Jew. 

"Have  you?" — he  heard  it  again  close  to  his 
ears;  the  site  of  Memphis  seemed  to  rise  toward  him 
and  then  retreat;  the  pyramids  at  last  were  over 
thrown  and  the  sky  fell  upon  his  head;  then,  as  far  as 
Aleppo  knew — nothing  ! 

It  was  night,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  discovered 
the  moon  directly  over  his  head,  staring  down  at 
him  with  a  sort  of  cold  pity.  Where  was  he  ?  He 


AT  THE   SITE   OF   MEMPHIS  115 

rose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  looked  around.  The 
dead  were  busy  whispering  among  themselves — 
sepulchral  voices  on  every  side.  The  mound  on 
which  he  sat  teemed  with  phantasmal  life — half- 
naked  Egyptians  muttered  in  strange  tongues  as 
they  glided  past,  veiled  women  peered  at  him  with 
wanton  eyes,  and  mummies  suddenly  instinct  with 
life,  arrived  from  nowhere  and  went  back  to  whence 
they  came.  At  first  Aleppo  imagined  himself  dead, 
but  catching  sight  of  the  moonlight  on  a  quaint 
ring  that  he  wore,  he  concluded  that  he  must  be 
going  mad;  then  slowly  there  crept  upon  him  the 
memory  of  a  fatal  magnetism  which  was  that  of 
Issachar  the  Jew. 

"Ah  !  " — he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  shook  him 
self;  he  walked  rapidly  back  and  forth  and  inhaled 
deep  draughts  of  air —  at  every  step  his  mind  grew 
clearer.  He  noted  that  his  coat  was  lying  on  the 
ground  and  his  under  garments  disarranged — the 
symbol !  Had  Issachar  made  sure — could  he  have 
stripped  him  and  found  the  mark  upon  his  back  ? 

With  a  shock  he  remembered  the  letter;  he  delved 
into  his  pockets  one  after  another;  he  tore  open  the 
bosom  of  his  shirt  and  felt  around  his  heart ;  he 
scanned  the  ground  right  and  left  everywhere — 
IT  WAS  GONE. 

On  Aleppo  there  fell  a  great  cloud — the  song  of 
Acadia  and  the  sweet  rose  of  Damascus  had 
vanished  from  his  heart.  He  wandered  aimlessly 
over  the  site  of  Memphis  until  the  sun  came  up 


116  EL  RESHID 

to  greet  the  Sphinx  and  drive  delusion  from  his 
mind. 

To  return  from  a  terrible  experience  to  the  ordi 
nary,  the  hum-drum,  is  indeed  a  transition.  For  a 
few  days  after  Aleppo's  experience  with  the  Jew, 
he  kept  his  room,  being  both  physically  and  men 
tally  ill.  He  had  contracted  a  severe  cold  on  the 
night  of  his  exposure  at  Memphis,  and  worse,  had 
learned,  as  he  bitterly  complained  to  himself,  that 
he  was  a  coward.  He  was  ashamed  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  of  the  dread  of  Issachar  which  still  pos 
sessed  him.  He  had  told  none  of  "the  five  "of 
his  adventure,  not  even  Regan.  He  bitterly 
regretted  the  disappearance  of  the  precious  letter, 
though  it  had  been  engraved  upon  his  heart;  but 
more  bitterly  the  loss  of  his  nerve,  in  acting  the 
craven  before  the  Jew.  He  tried  to  fight  the  battle 
out  with  himself  and  exorcise  his  terror,  but  his 
superstition  got  the  better  of  him  in  spite  of  his 
efforts:  more  to  his  shame,  because  he  had  always 
considered  himself  especially  strong  and  courageous. 
The  unhappy  part  of  it  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  was 
not  physical  terror  that  he  felt,  though  Issachar  was 
much  his  superior  in  muscle  and  size,  but  a  dread 
of  his  magnetism  which  he  looked  upon  as  invinci 
ble.  He  had  no  idea  of  what  the  Jew  might  desire 
of  him,  but  he  was  positive  that  whatever  it 
was,  he  would  have  it,  in  spite  of  all  his  own  efforts 
to  the  contrary.  His  past,  to  which  he  felt  that  Issa 
char  was  the  key,  was  becoming  a  terrible  present, 


AT  THE  SITE   OF  MEMPHIS  117 

like  a  thunder  cloud  foretelling  a  storm.  Who 
were  his  father  and  mother  ?  What  sin.  had  been 
theirs  that  this  diabolical  Jew  had  become  so 
in  league  with  them,  that  he  knew  of  the  very 
tattoo  upon  his  back?  This  mark  had  always  been 
a  great  mystery  to  Aleppo,  who  had  shown  it  to  no 
one  in  his  life  excepting  Caesar  Catus.  That  gentle 
man  had  informed  him  that  it  was  a  symbol  which 
•probably  a  mystic  could  interpret.  He  remembered, 
in  recalling  his  childhood,  that  at  the  time  he  had 
seen  Issachar,  he  had  awakened  from  a  sleep,  and 
that  his  back  had  caused  him  to  cry  with  pain. 
Had  he  been  drugged,  and  had  Issachar,  himself, 
deformed  him  ?  He  also  recalled  a  beautiful  lady, 
vaguely,  as  if  in  a  dream;  he  remembered  the  color 
of  her  hair — like  sunbeams.  He  began  to  pace  the 
floor.  Could  it  be — was  she  his  mother  ?  How  he 
hated  her !  As  the  conviction  grew,  taking  the 
shape  of  a  certainty,  he  shuddered,  and  wiped  the 
damp  from  his  brow.  His  mother!  He  had 
thought  of  her  heretofore  as  an  angel  in  heaven  ; 
now,  there  was  no  escaping  it,  this  golden-haired 
vision  was  his  mother — this  woman  of  light  and 
beauty.  Then  the  most  damnable  idea  that  had 
ever  blackened  his  soul,  for  an  instant  turned  him 
into  a  fiend.  Was  Issachar  his  father?  Great 
Heaven  !  he  could  have  killed  himself  then  and 
there;  but  it  passed,  and  the  reaction  came  with  its 
indifferent  calm.  He  began  to  think — was  he  a 
bastard  or  a  child  of  wedlock— had  he  been  born 


118  EL  RESHID 

of  beauty  and  the  beast,  or — it  was  no  use;  thought 
helped  not  a  whit.  It  was  guess  work  from  first  to 
last,  but  he  shrank  and  shrank  from  the  revelation, 
which  he  felt  was  being  forced  upon  him  in  spite  of 
his  tight  hold  on  the  door  of  his  past. 

Of  course  ' '  the  five  ' '  were  to  make  the  Nile 
trip,  and  that  very  soon.  Aleppo  could  scarcely 
wait  to  be  off ;  the  desire  to  run  was  still  on  him — 
to  flee  to  any  spot  where  Issachar  was  not. 

On  the  morning  of  their  departure  he  received 
his  letters  and  among  them  was  another  with 
the  Paris  postmark.  It  set  his  heart  beating  much 
as  does  a  lover's  whose  sweetheart  has  favored 
him.  He  sought  his  room  to  be  alone,  and  tearing 
off  the  outer  covers,  found  the  inner  epistle  as 
before.  He  absorbed  it  with  his  eyes,  his  brain, 
his  heart.  It  was  entitled, 

"FEAR. 

"  To  be  afraid  of  a  thing  is  to  give  it  power.  He 
who  fears  nothing  is  never  in  reality  hurt;  his  body 
may  succumb,  but  his  soul  is  too  white  to  be 
bleached.  Fear  of  God,  man,  beast,  or  the  devil,  is 
to  install  each  or  all  as  avenging  deities,  before 
which  a  poor  mortal  must  needs  cringe.  It  is  not 
the  magnetism  of  man  that  can  hurt  you,  but 
your  own  fear  of  the  same.  This  talk  of  a  subtle 
fluid  emerging  from  a  black,  white,  or  any  other 
kind  of  magician,  is  meaningless,  and  without 
weight.  This  nonsense  about  auras— red,  pink, 


AT  THE  SITE   OF   MEMPHIS  119 

and  blue — is  the  laughing  stock  of  true  science. 
Magnetisms  and  auras  in  the  sense  in  which  they 
are  interpreted,  are  but  chimeras  of  diseased  brains. 

"  Each  human  being,  to  say  nothing  of  the  brute 
creation,  has  will  and  power  to  do;  some  more, 
some  less.  If  you  fear  a  stronger  will  than  your 
self,  a  subtler  and  more  logical  brain,  you  are  as 
much  by  this  very  terror,  the  slave  to  its  owner,  as 
though  he  had  a  veritable  magnetic  fluid  which 
could  envelop  you  forever. 

"  One  in  pursuit  of  another,  who  fears  him,  is  a 
poisonous  spider  after  a  half-paralyzed  fly. 

"  Be  not  afraid.  Knowledge  is  power.  Know, 
that  every  mortal  that  walks  the  earth  is  an  immor 
tal — this  paradox  is  worthy  of  the  Sphinx.  The 
immortal,  by  its  very  nature,  is  indestructible.  He 
who  realizes  this  in  truth,  knows  naught  of  fear. 

"The  mass  of  men  believe  that  they  must  die. 
They  prate  of  eternal  life,  they  gossip  of  heaven, 
but  by  their  extremity  of  fear,  give  the  lie  unto 
themselves.  If  once  thou  art  convinced,  that  thou 
canst  not  die,  fear,  and  hope — its  everlasting  mate 
— will  flee,  and  certainty  will  stand,  firm-footed, 
where  they  once  were. 

' '  Fear  and  hope  are  for  the  world  of  men  who 
strive  to  annihilate  the  eternal  with  time;  who 
would  run  their  span  of  four  score  years  and  ten, 
and  bury  the  everlasting  in  the  yawning  grave. 
Fear  and  hope  are  for  him  who  barters  his  soul  for 
a  span  of  sentient  life.  But  one  who  beholds  the 


120  EL,  RESHID 

eternity  in  the  now,  and   the  all  in  himself,  fears 
nothing  and  hopes  for  naught. 

"  Wouldstthou  serve  a  relentless  will,  that  would 
bend  thee  as  does  the  blast  the  sapling,  or  wouldst 
thou  marshal  thy  whole  potential  force  till  giant 
face  giant,  and  king  face  king  ?  The  Master  in 
thee  struggles  with  the  man — the  immortal  with 
the  mortal.  Fear  not.  Thou  art  destined  to  be. 

Signed, ." 


With  the  reading  came  courage  born  of  convic 
tion.  The  sudden  consciousness  forced  upon  him 
by  its  own  self-evidence,  that  the  immortal  was 
indestructible  and  in  reality  safe,  while  the  danger 
lay  in  his  own  condition,  rather  than  in  anything 
that  Issachar  could  do,  braced  him  like  a  draught  of 
wine.  It  gradually  dawned  upon  him,  that  he  had 
fainted  from  sheer  terror  at  the  site  of  Memphis  ; 
Issachar  taking  advantage  of  this  weakness  and 
using  it  for  all  it  was  worth.  But  here  came  the 
puzzle.  How  had  this  unknown  writer,  evidently 
in  Paris,  in  spite  of  Damascus  roses,  how  had  he 
forestalled  any  further  advantage  that  the  Jew  might 
take,  by  opening  his  eyes  to  the  philosophy  of  the 
situation  ? 

The  letter  must  have  been  written  long  ere  the 
event  of  his  meeting  with  Issachar.  The  author 
must  indeed  be  Seer  and  Sage  combined,  to  bring 
about  such  a  concatenation  of  circumstances — coin 
cidence  was  out  of  the  question.  He  had  mused 


HELENE  121 

over  the  first  letter,  but  he  puzzled  more  over  the 
second. 

What  unseen  entity  at  Paris  was  following  him 
with  a  telescopic  eye,  guarding  and  directing  him 
as  might  the  spirit  of  one  dead  ?  He  knew  that  for 
some  reason,  powerful  influences  were  being  brought 
to  bear  to  prove  the  identity  of  Aleppo  Romanes. 
To  a  certainty,  the  pursuit  and  investigation  of  the 
Jew,  and  the  anonymous  letters  from  Paris,  were 
directed  toward  the  same  end.  Opposing  influences 
were  undoubtedly  at  work,  but  Aleppo,  though 
groping  in  the  dark,  understood  which  way  to  lean. 
The  two  letters  appealed  to  him  as  a  finality;  they 
spoke  with  the  authority  of  Holy  Writ,  because  of 
the  truth  on  which  they  were  based.  He  was 
braced  beyond  expression  by  the  second  communi 
cation.  A  sort  of  rugged  scorn  of  Issachar  had  to 
an  extent  allayed  his  fear;  a  ray  had  pierced  the 
darkness  which  had  well  nigh  turned  his  head;  the 
letter  gleamed  as  though  engraved  in  gold,  and 
flashed  on  the  night  of  his  soul  like  a  fixed  star. 


CHAPTER   X. 

HELENE 

Helene  Cressey  was  a  young  widow  when  she 
first  met  Henrique  Romanes  and  bore  him  a 
natural  son.  He  being  a  sworn  recluse,  far 
advanced  in  the  art  and  practice  of  Hermetic 


122  EL  RESHID 

Mysticism,  and  vowed  to  strict  celibacy,  had, 
through  his  passion  for  her,  broken  his  pledge  and 
betrayed  his  order. 

During  all  the  years  since  their  separation, 
Helene  had  lived  in  the  rapture  of  her  love  for 
Romanes,  never  suffering  him  to  die  out  of  her 
mind  and  heart,  though  until  she  met  him  on  that 
eventful  night  in  Vienna,  she  had  never  seen  his 
face.  In  fact  the  two  had  lived  in  a  sort  of  mental 
contact,  conscious  in  a  vague  way  of  each  other's 
sufferings  and  joys,  and  striving  to  climb  again  the 
height  from  which  they  had  fallen.  They  tacitly 
agreed  to  ignore  Aleppo,  having  arranged  for  his 
physical  comfort,  they  concluded  that  for  his  sake  as 
well  as  their  own,  it  were  better  that  he  remain  in 
ignorance  of  his  illegitimate  birth.  It  was  not  the 
illegality  that  troubled  them,  but  the  indignation 
which  their  natural  son  must  necessarily  feel  at 
Romanes'  disloyalty  to  a  Sacred  Order,  and 
Helene 's  acquiescence  in  the  same.  To  condone 
their  offense  they  had  agreed  .to  part,  and  thus 
removed  from  all  personal  temptation  to  strive  to  get 
back  into  the  pure  Eden  where  love  is  of  the  soul 
alone. 

Romanes,  in  his  early  infatuation  for  Helene, 
had  confided  to  her  all  the  secrets  of  his  cult ;  for, 
having  resolved  to  exchange  honor  for  herself,  he 
had  become,  for  the  time,  utterly  reckless.  Later, 
when  they  began  to  drink  the  dregs  of  the  cup, 
Helene  (the  first  to  recover  and  repent)  had  almost 


HELENE  123 

driven  Romanes  from  her;  he  being  wiser  than  her 
self  was  exceedingly  dubious  as  to  his  power  of 
regaining  lost  ground  ;  she  however  was  hopeful 
and  persistent. 

"  I  have  paid  a  great  price  for  our  unborn  child," 
he  said  to  her  as  they  parted  ;  "not  only  have  I 
defied  law,  which  some  would  look  upon  as  entirely 
inexcusable,  where  love  ties  the  knot,  but  I  have 
broken  a  vow  and  betrayed  a  trust.  I  doubt  much 
if  there  is  any  way  to  regain  what  I  have  lost." 

"And  I, "  said  Helene,  "have  given  nothing, 
and  have  acquired  much.  What  is  my  fair  name, 
when  weighed  against  your  love  ? — what  are  living 
lies  compared  with  the  joys  of  memory  ?  Romanes, 
go  ! — and  our  unborn  child  shall  be  as  if  he  were 
not." 

Thus  she  spoke  to  him,  though  she  cursed  Aleppo 
in  her  heart.  This  was  all  years  and  years  before. 
Since  her  meeting  with  Romanes  at  Vienna, 
Helene  Cressey  had  begun  to  fade;  the  shock  of  the 
contact  with  one  who  had  been  to  her  as  dead,  the 
renewal  of  the  old  anxiety  which  she  had  hoped 
was  buried  with  the  past,  the  sudden  and  inevitable 
assumption  of  responsibilities  that  mantled  her 
cheek  with  shame,  and  caused  her  proud  head  to 
bend,  all  these  sprinkled  her  golden  hair  with 
silver,  and  brought  lines  upon  her  brow.  True  to 
her  promises  she  used  the  means  within  her  reach 
to  recover  Aleppo,  though  in  disposing  of  her 
strength  thus,  she  wrote  the  death  warrant  upon 


124  El,  RBSHID 

herself.  She  believed  in  another  life — on  earth; 
the  cult  of  Romanes  had  taught  her  this; — she 
would  wash  the  pages  of  it  now,  that  she  might 
begin  with  a  white  sheet. 

She  saw  herself  afar, — she  lifted  the  veil  of  Isis 
and  beheld  Helene  again.  Her  feet  trod  a  virgin 
soil.  Vestal  once  more,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the 
mighty  Sierras,  and  challenged  the  blue  above 
them  with  a  steady  glance.  Born  among  primeval 
trees,  of  alien  stock,  new-made  out  of  heaven, 
white  as  the  sea  gull,  strong  with  awakened  energy, 
she  gazed  fearlessly  across  the  waste  of  the  Pacific 
to  the  unseen  Orient,  and  dared  all  the  Buddhas  to 
wipe  her  out.  But  the  realization  of  this  fair 
vision, — this  pristine  strength  and  Edenic  beauty, 
hung  upon  a  price;  she  must  make  of  herself  a  very 
stepping  stone  whereon  Aleppo  might  ascend.  She 
must  lose  her  life,  that  she  might  find  it,  where  the 
sun  sets  to  rise  over  the  East.  Her  love  must  fall 
asleep;  her  beauty  wane;  herself  buried,  would  rise 
again  with  the  freshness  of  the  morning  dew, 
where  the  west  wind  blows  off  the  ocean,  and 
eternal  roses  bloom. 

She  would  come  into  this  pure  consciousness  with 
difficulties — the  birth  pangs  would  be  hard.  She 
saw  in  vision,  dark  days,  when  storms  not  only 
shook  the  giant  sequoia,  but  herself  also.  She 
repented  in  advance  of  grave  mistakes  made  in  the 
romantic  audacity  of  new-found  youth.  But  over 
and  above  all,  she  beheld  the  glittering  stars  of 


HELENE  125 

a  California  sky,  and  the  purified  peaks  of  the 
Sierra  Madre,  cleaving  the  thin  air  with  the  bold 
ness  of  great  height.  She  breathed  the  breath  of 
the  pines  and  felt  the  salt  brine  of  the  Pacific  on 
her  blooming  cheek. 

"All  a  dream,"  you  say;  and  we  answer;  "  Pos 
sibly,  all  a  dream;  so,  too,  may  be  the  Methodist 
heaven,  with  its  paved  streets  and  pearly  gates;  so, 
too,  the  Mohammedan's  hareem  in  Paradise,  or  the 
Buddhist's  Maha  Meru." 

Fact  or  fancy,  Helene  believed,  and  found  in  the 
face  of  truth,  as  she  saw  it,  but  one  thing  to  do. 
She  was  intense  for  good  or  evil,  as  the  case  might 
be.  The  selfish  once  becoming  unselfish,  gives  all. 
She  neither  calculated  nor  considered,  but  began 
immediately  to  act.  Alas !  She  was  not  alto 
gether  wise ;  Romanes  was  a  sage,  Helene — a 
woman. 

She  saw  no  way  to  find  Aleppo,  save  through 
Jacob  Issachar,  to  whom  she  had  resorted  once 
before  in  her  extremity,  much  to  Romanes'  grief ; 
so,  prompt  as  her  attention  was  strong,  she  once 
more  retreated  to  her  chalet  in  Switzerland  and 
buried  her  life  beneath  the  awful,  glittering  crags 
of  the  Alps.  Her  first  thought  was  Edena  ;  she 
had  lost  all  trace  of  her  after  her  departure  with 
Aleppo,  but  she  knew  the  whereabouts  of  her  home 
in  Saxony,  and  communicated  with  her  relations 
immediately.  She  ascertained  that  Edena  was 
dead,  but  that  a  younger  sister,  Silvia,  now  an  old 


126  EL  RESHID 

woman,  was  still  alive,  and  could  account  for  the 
history  of  Edena  to  her  last  hour.  She  imme 
diately  sent  for  the  old  lady,  begging  a  visit  from 
her  at  her  chalet. 

It  was  a  bleak  night;  snow  was  piling  up  on  all 
sides,  and  the  cold  in  the  mountains  was  so  intense 
that  Helene's  man  servant  had  piled  the  enormous 
fireplace  with  huge  logs,  which  blazed  and  smoul 
dered,  causing  weird,  shadowy  shapes  to  appear 
and  disappear  in  the  corners  of  the  great  living 
room  of  this  mountain  retreat.  The  apartment 
was  wainscoted  in  dark  wood;  the  ceiling  being 
relieved  by  heavy  beams,  which  were  enriched  in 
color  by  the  uncertain  smoke  that  the  wind  often 
blew  at  them,  when  it  came  in  its  mad  rush  down 
the  chimney  on  stormy  nights.  The  fire  furnished 
both  heat  and  light;  not  even  a  candle  glowed  on  the 
dresser,  nor  illuminated  the  ancient  shelving  which 
rose  from  over  the  mantel  to  the  very  ceiling. 

Silvia,  who  had  arrived  at  the  chalet  that  day, 
sat  over  the  blazing  logs,  crooning  an  old  German 
song,  and  knitting  vigorously  with  fingers  that  age 
had  left  untouched.  She  had  a  benign  but  severe 
countenance,  and  white  hair,  combed  smoothly 
under  a  black  cap. 

Helena  drew  her  chair  close  to  her  side,  and 
began  to  ply  her  with  questions,  listening  intently 
to  catch  every  word  that  fell  from  her  lips;  for  the 
storm  outside  was  doing  its  best  to  prevent  conver- 


HELENE  127 

sation  by  rattling  the  shutters  and  shaking  the 
doors. 

"  So  Edena  was  with  you  when  she  died  ? ' '  said 
Helene,  in  German. 

"Yes,"  said  Silvia,  knitting  a  whole  round 
before  raising  her  eyes — she  was  naturally  secretive 
and  mysterious — •"  but  she  had  another  name." 

"  Had  she  been  married  ? ' '  asked  Helene,  anx 
iously. 

"  No,  but  she  ought  to  have  been;  she  adopted  a 
son." 

"  Ah !     What  was  her  name  ?  " 

"Serena;  'twas  as  much  like  the  other  as  she 
could  get." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  this  boy?  " — Helene 's  voice 
trembled  slightly. 

"  Yes;  when  I  visited  her  in  Italy,  and  when  she 
died,  at  the  old  home." 

"  What  manner  of  child  was  he  ?  " 

"Good,  I  guess,  as  young  folks  go;  went  to 
school  right  along.  Kdena  was  very  fond  of  him; 
and  if  I  do  say  it,  who  didn't  approve  of  her  hav 
ing  him,  she  was  like  a  mother,  no  doubt.  Aleppo 
loved  her  in  his  way,  same  as  all  boys." 

"  How  old  was  he  when  Edena  died?  " 

"  Don't  know  exactly,  he  was  pretty  well  grown; 
at  work  in  a  studio.  Not  very  much  of  an  artist 
I  guess,  though  Edena  thought  to  the  contrary; 
she  believed  he  was  everything.  That  boy  could 


128  El,  RESHID 

do  no  wrong  in  her  eyes;  whatever  he  said  and  did 
was  right.  She  spoiled  him,  and  I  told  her  so." 

"  Did  he  suffer  or  want  for  anything  ?  " 

"Suffer! — 'twould  have  been  better  for  him  if 
he  had.  Edena  gave  him  money,  though  where 
she  got  it,  I  don't  know.  I'm  sorry  any  cloud 
should  rest  on  my  sister,  but  she  seemed  to  have 
plenty  for  herself  and  the  boy;  and  I  have  had  my 
suspicions.  Edena,  in  spite  of  her  plain  features, 
was  romantic.  I  arn  afraid  she  had  a  lover,  and 
that  Aleppo  was  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  How 
else  did  she  come  by  so  much  gold  ? "  Helene 
moved  with  a  start. 

"  She  would  not  confess  anything,  even  when 
she  died;  but  the  boy  had  been  provided  for — a 
good  round  sum.  He  started  off  traveling  a  few 
months  after  Edena  went  out." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where?  "  Helene  had  grasped 
Silvia  by  the  arm  and  spoke  with  a  kind  of  spasm. 
Silvia  looked  at  her  with  surprise;  all  sorts  of 
vague  surmises  ran  through  her  head. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  1  cannot;  he  was  with  us  when 
Edeua  died,  afterward  went  back  to  Italy,  and 
never  wrote  us  a  line." 

"  If  he  were  Edena's  son,  how  did  it  happen  that 
he  was  in  an  asylum?  " 

"Just  as  a  blind,  I  think — to  temporarily  mis 
lead  people  as  to  his  relationship.  I  expect  it  was 
to  throw  our  family  off  guard.  Edena  was  very 
shrewd,  and  we,  for  poor  folks,  are  very  proud." 


HELENE  129 

Helene  shuddered,  and  the  wind  howled  through 
the  pines  outside. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort  ever  happened  in  our 
family  before;  in  fact,"  tossing  her  head,  "Don't 
know  as  it  ever  did  happen.  I  expect  I  have  mis 
judged  Edena;  the  money  is  what  puzzles  me 
though;  it  made  a  coldness  between  us  from  the 
first." 

Helene  was  walking  the  room  rapidly.  Pride  ! 
Where  was  her's?  She  must  begin  her  atonement 
now — this  very  night.  Turning  abruptly  toward 
Silvia,  her  eyes  flaming,  her  face  red — not  from  fire, 
but  from  shame — her  hands  nervously  clutching 
each  other,  she  said  : 

"Silvia,  you  do  your  sister  a  great  wrong.  I 
am  the  mother  of  Aleppo,  and  the  money  that  has 
troubled  you  was  mine." 

Silvia  had  passed  the  age  of  enthusiasm ;  tra 
gedy  to  her  seemed  far-fetched.  She  knit  a  whole 
round  on  the  sock,  then  raising  her  eyes  to  Helene, 
said  severely  : 

' '  You  should  have  lifted  that  shadow  off  from 
my  sister  before." 

"In  truth,  Silvia," — Helene  was  trembling  like 
an  aspen — ' '  I  never  dreamed  that  you  had  put  such 
a  construction  on  Edena's  care  of  my  son." 

"  How  else  could  I  look  at  it  ?  A.  poor  woman 
suddenly  becoming  rich  and  adopting  a  lad;  it  car 
ries  evidence  on  its  face.  I  am  glad,  for  the  honor 


130  EL  RESHID 

of  my  liouse,  that  she  was  innocent ;  but  'tis  the 
more  shame  for  you." 

Silva  was  a  privileged  character,  she  spake  her 
full  mind,  and  Helene  took  the  ethereal  slap  with  a 
meekness  heretofore  unexperienced  by  herself. 

The  roar  of  the  blast  outside  had  subsided  into  a 
kind  of  wail,  the  logs  in  the  great  fireplace  were 
smouldering,  and  the  cold  had  crept  in  through  the 
crannies  and  cracks.  Silvia  was  inclined  to  be 
dumb,  and  the  click-clack  of  her  needles  spoke  of 
a  certain  condensed  scorn  for  the  woman  by  her 
side,  which  words  could  never  express.  Helene 
felt  it,  and  broke  the  silence: — 

"  I  know  now,  that  you'll  not  care  to  pro 
long  your  stay,  you  will  leave  me  to-morrow;  be 
thankful,  however,  that  I  have  cleared  up  Edena's 
character  and  restored  your  family  to  its  pristine 
state."  But  Silvia  was  not  as  hard  as  she  looked. 

' '  Tut  tut  !  ' '  — she  dropped  the  sock  in  her  lap — 
"so  you '11  turn  an  old  woman  out  in  the  storm; 
well  I  shan't  go;  understand,  I'll  stay  my  week  out 
as  I  came  to  do,  perhaps  longer,  for  that  matter." 
She  made  great  show  of  anger,  but  Helene  felt  the 
crude  kindness  to  the  depths  of  her  soul,  and  went 
over  to  old  Silvia,  who  was  looking  very  severe. 

"You  are  Edena  over  again."  She  threw  her 
arms  around  her  neck,  buried  her  face  on  the  old 
woman's  shoulder,  and  sobbed  as  though  her  heart 
would  break. 

"  There,  my  beauty," — this  was  the  only  time 


HELENS  131 

that  Silvia  had  spoken  tenderly — "  you've  not  aged 
enough  yet  to  spoil  your  eyes;  when  you  get  like 
me  'twon't  matter."  But  Silvia  let  her  stay,  and 
stroked  her  hair  a  little.  It  was  the  sweetest 
touch  that  Helene  had  known  for  many  a  year. 

The  room  grew  colder  and  the  fire  went  down, 
till  the  corners  were  black  with  shadows;  still  the 
golden  head  rested  on  Silvia's  shoulder,  andHelene's 
low  sobbing  mingled  with  the  gale  outside.  She 
was  neither  repenting  of  her  sins,  nor  regretting 
retribution;  Silvia  had  found  her  clean,  and  was 
holding  her  in  her  arms.  It  takes  a  strange  thing, 
sometimes  to  break  up  the  ice-floe  of  the  heart. 

Edena's  sister  staid  her  time  out;  and  after  she 
had  gone,  Helene  waited  restlessly  for  a  visit  from 
Issachar.  Having  ascertained  nothing  from  Silvia 
that  could  give  her  any  clew  as  to  the  whereabouts 
of  Aleppo,  she  had  resorted,  almost  against  her 
judgment,  to  the  Jew.  Not  aware  of  his  precise 
address,  she  directed  a  letter  to  Venice,  in  hopes 
that  by  some  good  fortune  it  would  reach  him, 
requesting  a  visit  as  promptly  as  possible,  and 
appealing  to  the  mercenary  side  of  his  nature  with 
a  large  bribe.  The  days  went  by,  but  brought  no 
news.  Almost  in  despair,  and  frozen  by  the  savage 
peaks  of  the  Alps,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  go  to 
Venice,  and  make  personal  search,  when  a  letter 
arrived,  addressed  in  French,  and  mailed  in  Egypt. 
IJ  was  from  Issachar,  and  read  as  follows  : 


132  EL  RESHID 

Madame :  , 

Your  epistle  received  in  Venice.  Have  since 
been  following  one  Aleppo  Bracciolini — young  man 
with  his  father  and  brother.  I  am  suspicious  that 
he  may  be  Aleppo  Romanes.  Will  go  after  him  to 
the  end  of  the  world,  provided  that  ^you  bestow 
upon  me  a  sum  worthy  of  the  task.  Issachar  is  a 
prince,  remember.  No  other  on  earth  can  prove 
the  identity  of  the  son  of  Romanes;  for  was  it  not  I 
that  burnt  the  sign  of  an  order  into  his  back  ?  The 
devil  knows  his  own  mark. 

Shall  await  your  command  at  Cairo. 

JACOB  ISSACHAR. 

What  the  pecuniary  demand  of  a  self-styled 
prince  might  be,  Helene  had  no  idea;  nor  could 
she,  nor  any  but  Issachar  decipher  the  devil's  mark. 
The  Jew  had  stated  truly,  that  he,  alone,  of  all  on 
earth,  could  prove  the  identity  of  Aleppo  Romanes. 
To  be  sure,  the  boy  adopted  by  Edena  might  be 
verified  by  Silvia,  but  he  had  been  in  an  asylum 
three  or  four  years,  and  might,  for  all  they  knew, 
be  a  different  child  from  the  one  booked  as  Aleppo 
Bracciolini.  The  mark  alone  was  the  test;  and 
from  the  hint  in  Issachar's  letter,  Helene  had  grave 
doubts  as  to  its  being  a  sign  of  the  order  to  which 
Romanes  belonged.  A  subtler  brain  than  Helene's 
might  have  seen  that  proof  positive  was  not  even 
to  be  found  in  the  oath  of  the  Jew.  Capable  of 
deception  once,  why  not  again  ?  The  signer  of  the 


ON  THE  NILE  1^3 

devil's  mark,  could  easily  perjure  himself,  but,  sub 
tleties  to  the  contrary,  Helene  believed  that  Issa- 
char  was  the  one  and  certain  clue.  Her  fortune 
was  large  and  her  sacrifice  had  already  begun.  If 
Issachar  must  have  money,  she  would  pour  out  her 
own  to  the  last  penny;  with  the  rash  audacity  of  a 
woman  who  had  known  no  half-way  experience  in 
all  her  life,  she  dashed  off  the  following  reply  to 
the  Jew's  letter: 

Jacob  Issachar : 

Sir :  Make  your  terms,  by  telegraph.  If  within 
my  power,  will  acquiesce. 

Address. 

HELENS  CRESSEY, 

Vienna. 

Upon  sending  this,  she  returned  to  Vienna  to 
await  events,  while  the  fire  of  her  life  burned 
rapidly  toward  its  end. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
ON  THE  NILE. 

"  The  five  "  had  increased  to  seven;  two  rather 
ancient  sisters,  friends  of  Mrs.  Hancock,  had  met 
her  by  appointment  at  Cairo,  with  the  understand 
ing  that  they  were  to  make  the  Nile  trip  together. 
They  were  harmless  ladies,  and  called  the  Misses 
Richard.  The  older  by  perhaps  a  year  or  two  was 


134  EL  RESHID 

Sarah,  while  the  younger  answered  to  the  giddy 
name  of  Bess.  With  Mrs.  Hancock  they  balanced 
the  party,  adding  enough  of  conventional  dignity 
to  overcome  the  Bohemian  tendencies  of  the  other 
four.  They  were  to  make  the  Nile  trip  in  a 
dahabeah,  about  which  Regan  had  employed  him 
self  for  several  days.  He  had  hunted  for  a  drago 
man  till  he  found  just  the  "  right  thing,"  so  he 
said;  though  why  this  individual  should  be  styled 
a  "thing,"  he  never  explained.  They  had 
eschewed  Cook  and  steam  and  taken  to  wind  and 
sails;  for  time,  being  of  no  account,  and  the 
Nile  everything,  they  had  all  voted  to  go  up  to  the 
first  cataract  with  the  pace  of  a  snail. 

Their  dragoman  made  a  picturesque  figure  with 
his  turban  and  slouchy  trousers,  and  his  English 
equalled  any  pidgeon  vernacular  that  a  Chinese 
was  capable  of.  He  took  the  pride  of  a  titled  lord 
in  his  small  but  nicely  furnished  dahabeah,  and 
showed  the  passengers  over  it  as  though  it  were  a 
floating  palace.  It  was  like  all  dahabeahs,  with  its 
flat  bottom  and  forward  mast.  There  was  the  out 
door  Darlor  with  its  Oriental  furnishings,  the  in 
door  saloon,  its  mite  of  a  kitchen,  and  tiny  state 
rooms. 

Their  dragoman  was  a  musselman  named  Haggi, 
though  his  religion  counted  for  very  little.  He  was 
literally  all  things  to  all  men —  a  kaleidoscopic 
chameleon  as  regards  color  of  thought  and  tone  of 
speech. 


ON  THE  NILE  .  135 

It  being  Autumn,  they  were  to  sail  against  the 
current  and  float  down  with  it  on  their  return  to 
Cairo.  The  day  of  their  start  was  a  fine  one,  the 
Mohammed  hurried  along  like  a  bird,  flying  by 
palaces,  temples  and  gardens;  while  the  pyramids 
in  their  majesty  pursued  her  like  veritable  avengers. 
She  passed  vanishing  groves  of  palm,  huts  of  mud, 
and  yellow  hills;  thus  floating  on  and  on,  till  night 
set  in,  when,  staked  like  a  weary  ostrich,  she  slept 
by  the  side  of  a  little  village  that  dreamed,  as  it  had 
for  centuries,  the  Hareem-tinctured  dreams  of  a 
servant  of  Allah. 

In  a  few  hours  after  leaving  Cairo  they  were  all 
at  home,  their  belongings  settled  and  adjusted,  and 
themselves  in  a  frame  of  mind  amicable  in  the  ex 
treme.  Aleppo  felt  that  for  some  time  at  least  he 
need  have  no  dealings  with  Issachar,  while  Rhea 
was  in  literal  rhapsody,  realizing  a  cherished  vision, 
where  the  Nile  had  wound  and  coiled  like  an  insinu 
ating  serpent  of  yellow  and  green  in  and  out  of 
her  life  for  years.  Sallus  rejuvenated,  was  becoming 
conscious  of  powerful  ambitions,  while  Mrs. 
Hancock  gloated  over  the  long  hours  in  prospect 
where  table  linen  and  embroidery  silks  should 
reign  supreme.  The  addenda,  called  Sarah  and 
Bess,  were  as  benignly  conventional  as  it  was 
proper  to  be,  and  Regan — Regan! — king!  In  spite 
of  the  musselman  Haggi,  in  spite  of  dead  calms 
and  the  tracking  of  Arab  sailors,  in  spite  of  Mrs. 
Hancock's  scornful  snubs  and  the  cook's  pre- 


136  EL  RESHID 

eminence,  king!  There  was  no  denying  it,  this 
was  the  place  for  Regan. 

"  Ton  my  word,  I  wonder  I've  never  tried  this 
before  " — it  was  the  brightest  kind  ot  a  morning, 
the  second  day  on  board. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  like  to  have  but  few  people 
about, — you're  a  natural  boss,"  said  Mrs.  Hancock 
snappishly. 

"  No,  that's  not  exactly  it;  bossing  isn't  after  my 
style.  The  fun  of  this  thing  lies  in  its  opportunities. 
I've  always  wanted  to  be  lazy,  but  never  had  a 
chance  before.  To  move  and  be  lazy  at  the  same 
time  is  happiness  done  brown.  It's  as  much  like  a 
massage  as  anything  I  know  of — you  are  exercis 
ing,  and  yet  you  are  not.  To  lie  on  your  back  and 
be  kneaded  is  very  much  like  going  up  the  Nile — 
See?" 

''How  horrid  !"  Mrs.  Hancock  looked  scanda 
lized  and  the  conventional  Misses  Richards  turned 
their  backs. 

"  Well  it's  just  this  way — you're  going  along  and 
seeing  the  identical  mud  hut,  duplicated  from  Cairo 
to  Karnak;  at  the  same  time  you  are  sitting  still. 
Besides  you  feel  young  and  frisky  down  here  in  old 
Khem  ;  comparison  makes  kids  of  us,  don't  you 
see,  Mrs.  Hancock?  " 

"They  say,"  said  Rhea,  "  that  one  never  realizes 
his  ideals;  it's  a  mistake,  for  I'm  realizing  mine." 

"  That's  just  it  ;  "  answered  Regan,  "  your  ideal 
is  up  to  the  Nile;  Mrs.  Hancock's  isn't.  Folks  are 


ON  THE  NILE  1H7 

different — two  peas  to  the  contrary.  My  ideal  is 
realized  in  active  laziness  or  lazy  activity — one  way 
of  putting  it  is  as  good  as  another.  I  like  to  be 
doing  and  yet  not  doing,  see  ?  Going  and  keeping 
still  is  the  sum  total  of  happiness — the  Nile  suits 
me." 

' '  You  ought  to  have  been  happy  at  Stamboul, 
where,  metaphorically,  you  embraced  two  conti 
nents  at  once ' ' — 

"That  is  a  kind  of  paradox,  sure — East  and 
West  tumbling  into  each  other's  arms;  but  'tis 
nothing  to  this  calm  motion  which  the  Buddhist 
describes  as  Nirvana." 

"  Wait  till  the  wind  lulls  and  those  Arabs  get  to 
"tracking;"  you'll  sing  a  different  song  most 
likely,"  said  Sallus  whistling. 

"  I  expect  so;  I  hate  to  be  pulled  anywtere  by 
one  of  my  kind.  No  help  for  it  though,  if  the 
wind  lulls,  unless  I  get  out  and  join  in." 

"  Yes;  you'd  make  a  pretty  figure  along  side  of 
those  Arabs  " — Mrs.  Hancock  snapped  her  eyes  at 
him  as  she  said  it,  but  it  was  all  wasted  on  Regan; 
he  was  proof  against  Mrs.  Hancock's  eyes  in  any 
shape;  their  flashes  either  celestial  or  terrestrial 
were  as  harmless  as  sheet  lightning,  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned.  Regan  loved  two  boys  and  one  girl  and 
Mrs.  Hancock  was  utterly  shut  out.  She  knew  this 
and  a  woman  scorned,  or  rather  ignored,  is  bitterer 
than  aloes.  She  tolerated  the  young  fellows 
because  of  their  youth,  but  Regan,  from  the  fact 


13S  EL  RESHID 

of  his  utter  indifference  and  extreme  good  nature,  was 
beyond  endurance.  She  enjoyed  herself  however, 
exceedingly;  to  have  a  grievance  was  to  her  a  source 
of  great  delight,  so  she  nursed  her  petty  hatred  and 
poured  out  her  feelings  on  the  innocent  heads  of 
the  Misses  Richards  much  to  their  enjoyment  also. 
In  fact  the  Nile  voyagers,  while  outwardly  one,  were 
inwardly  two  —  the  forces  being  diametrically 
opposed. 

Rhea  had  assumed  the  role  of  mother  confessor 
to  Sallus,  and  had  maintained  it  with  so  much 
dignity  that  the  young  man  had  completely  changed 
his  mind  in  regard  to  her.  That  he  had  determin 
ed  to  marry  her,  he  remembered  with  a  species  of 
awe.  How  he  could  ever  have  been  so  audacious  he 
failed  at  present  to  understand.  He  would  die  for 
her  gladly,  but  marry  her — never  !  She  had  talked 
to  him  as  though  his  senior  by  twenty  years.  She 
had  raised  herself  so  high  on  her  pedestal  of  dignity, 
that  he  thought  of  her  as  a  denizen  of  another 
world — here  by  mistake — but  sure  to  return  to 
whence  she  came,  when  the  time  was  ripe.  What 
ever  of  passionate  love  he  had  conceived  for  her  on 
their  first  meeting  in  Brindisi,  she  had  succeeded  in 
putting  out,  and  in  place  of  it,  had  arisen  in  Sallus' 
mind  a  sort  of  worship  such  as  a  devotee  bestows 
upon  his  idol.  Rhea  was  Sallus'  church  and  Sun 
day  School;  more — a  veritable  flesh  and  blood  god 
dess  to  whom  he  said  his  prayers.  Aleppo  had 
discovered  this  peculiar  condition  of  affairs  between 


ON  THE  NILE  139 

Rhea  and  Sallus  long   since,  and   felt   particularly 
content  in  consequence. 

Sallus  was  saved;  his  redeemer  was  Rhea.  Aleppo 
had  no  more  anxiety  about  his  beloved  chum,  and 
Rhea  was  the  sweet  friend  of  himself  for  though 
their  tongues  were  silent — their  eyes  spoke. 

The  "  tracking  "  came  according  to  Sallus;  the 
patient  Arabs  pulled  like  mules  along  the  bank  of 
the  Nile,  and  so  slowly  that  there  was  plenty  of 
chance  to  investigate  and  take  notes. 

They  had  reached  the  region  of  the  Dom  palm. 
Here  they  had  opportunity  to  exercise,  and  instead 
of  motionless  motion,  according  to  Regan,  they  went 
for  a  wajk  through  a  small  Arab  town.  It  had  the 
squalor  of  Cairo,  without  its  splendor ;  it  was 
a  typical  place — Bazaar,  flies,  shops,  rugs,  saddles, 
flies,  dogs,  camels,  donkies,  flies,  men,  women, 
children,  flies — this  is  an  Arab  town. 

They  were  moored  at  night  as  usual,  and  the 
party,  tired  after  their  walk,  were  lolling  about  on 
the  deck  parlor,  each  dreaming  or  plotting,  as  the 
case  might  be.  There  was  a  soft,  seductive  moon, 
which  flooded  the  Mohammed  with  a  fantastic  glow. 
The  Nile,  on  whose  bosom  lay  a  phantom  of  her 
lunar  self,  was  glittering  and  flashing  in  a  sort  of 
rapture,  to  which  Rhea  responded  with  full  heart. 
She  had  thrown  herself  among  the  cushions,  and 
looked,  in  the  splendor  of  the  night,  like  a  dream- 
child  of  the  Orient.  She  was  dressed  in  a  white, 
clinging  robe,  with  loose,  half-open  sleeves,  that 


140  EL  RESHID 

displayed  the  sculptured  beauty  of  her  arms,  whose 
ivory  tinting  was  intensified  by  the  light  on  high. 
Her  face,  as  she  reclined  among  the  cushions,  with 
those  beautiful  arms  clasped  above  her  head,  had  in 
it  the  expression  of  rapture  that  an  unrealized  pas 
sion  sometimes  brings.  She  revealed  in  her  look 
and  pose,  the  ecstacy  of  a  waking  dream,  untrans 
lated,  save  in  song.  Aleppo  was  near  her,  and 
with  half- veiled  eyes,  watched  the  celestial  beauty 
which  the  moon  had  made.  There  was  a  hush  on 
the  Nile,  and  in  his  heart.  He  seemed  to  be  wait 
ing  for  something — what,  he  could  not  tell.  The 
others  had  stolen  away,  and  he  and  Rhea  were 
alone.  He  thought  of  the  queen — Cleopatra.  He 
forgot  the  blackness  of  her  character,  and  remem 
bered  but  the  charm.  Something  in  Rhea  recalled 
her,  as  one  star  brings  out  another.  He  thought  of 
icy  peaks  and  lotus  flowers,  of  pine  trees  and  palms, 
of  the  mystery  and  witchery  of  color,  of  the  magic 
and  majesty  of  sound.  He  beheld  the  flashing  eyes 
of  Egypt's  queen — the  starry  eyes,  veiled  to  hide 
their  passion,  or  opened  wide  in  the  deadly  splen 
dor  of  their  power.  He  saw  her  challenge  Caesar, 
and  conquer  Antony,  and  felt,  stealing  over 
him,  the  charm  of  life,  life,  LIFE  ! — the  voluptuous 
spell  of  the  poet — the  Sapphic  cry  of  an  exultant 
love.  He  was  conscious  of  the  teeming  luxury  of 
earth.  He  melted  moonlight  pearls  and  drank 
them  in  cups  of  magic  wine.  He  felt  the  Greek 
heart  beat  in  Egypt's  breast,  and  while  he  dreamed, 


ON  THE  NILE  141 

the  serpent  Nile  coiled  and  uncoiled,  and  flashed 
and  quivered — its  million  glittering  scales  alive 
with  color,  speaking  in  their  Iris  glow  and  glitter — 
life!  life  !  life  !  !  Entranced,  half  lost  in  rapture, 
there  stole  upon  his  ear,  a  voice — the  same  that  he 
had  heard  since  time  on  earth  began.  It  was 
Rhea's;  her  soul  went  out  in  song,  and  her  voice 
— pure  contralto — floating  on  and  on  in  Aleppo's 
heart  forever  and  forever  : — 

"  I  loved  you  in  the  old  time, 
I  love  you  in  the  new — 
Forever  and  forever 
My  heart  belongs  to  you." 

He  was  shocked  to  his  feet.     Was  he  dreaming? 

Where  had  she  heard  it  ?  It  was  his  ! — the  song 
of  his  soul — and  Rhea  was  pouring  it  out  to  the. 
moon  with  the  rapture  of  a  singing-bird.  He  dared 
not  speak.  The  powerful,  thrilling  rhapsody  died 
— died  away,  till  only  an  echo  floated  softly  through 
the  Dom  palms  on  the  shore,  mingling  and  losing 
its  sweet  cadence  in  the  ripples  and  the  glitter  of 
the  Nile. 

She  ceased;  her  beautiful  white  arms  fell  listlessly 
in  her  lap,  and  her  head  dropped  on  her  breast. 

"Rhea!     Rhea!" 

She  lifted  her  face  and  looked  Aleppo  in  the  eyes. 

' '  Where  did  you  learn  that  song  ?  ' ' 
-"  I  have  known  it  forever.' ' 

"  And  so  have  I" 


142  BI/  RESHID 

She  looked  at  him  like  a  startled  fawn,  then 
turned  away. 

"  Rhea!  Rhea  !  " — he  came  very  close  and  took 
her  hand.  <l  How  happens  it  that  you  and  I  have 
sung  the  same?  " 

Even  in  the  moonlight  he  saw  the  color  steal  up 
from  her  rosy  neck  to  her  brow  and  hair.  ' '  Can 
you  not  speak  to  me  ?  Rhea ! ' ' 

"  Since  I  can  remember,  I  have  sung  this  song." 

"And  I,"  said  Aleppo,  "I  have  it  written 
down." 

In  startled  speech,  hardly  knowing  what  she 
said,  she  went  on:  "I  have  always  known  that 
somewhere  on  earth  this  dear  love  dwelt.  I  have 
sung  to  this  unknown  forever.  Some  one  there  is 
who  loves  me — some  one."  Here  she  paused  and 
turned  away. 

"  It  is  I,  Rhea!  it  is  I!  Can  you  not  understand? 
I  have  written  to  you  a  thousand  times;  I  have 
sung  to  you  a  thousand  more;  I  have  seen  you, 
since  I  could  dream  at  all.  To-night,  in  the 
moon's  soft  glow,  you  came  again — the  virgin  face 
— within  my  soul.  Sweetheart,  it  is  I;  our  song  is 
one;  we  respond  to  the  same  love  note;  the  stars 
have  told  us,  and  the  moon;  the  Nile  is  alive  with 
light.  Oh,  Rhea!" 

She  shuddered,  and  drew  her  hand  away.  "  The 
light  is  for  you,  dear  heart,  the  shadow  for  me." 

She  sat  erect,  the  soft  languor  gone,  her  eyes  fol- 


ON  THE  NILE  143 

lowing  the  sinuous  river,  as  though  within  its  ser 
pent  coils  she  read  a  tale  of  doom. 

"  It  is  true,  we  sing  the  same  song;  but,  ah!  there 
is  something — a  shadow;  it  comes  between  us  like 
a  veil;  on  one  side  it  is  bright — the  white  light  of 
the  sun,  on  the  other,  dark!  I  see  you,  Aleppo, 
on  a  shining  height;  myself  out  in  the  night, 
alone  ! 

"  Oh,  Rhea,  too  much  of  happiness  has  made  you 
sad;  it  seems  to  me  my  heart  will  burst  with  joy. 
I  have  the  letters — all;  this  very  night  I  will  place 
them  in  your  hands;  and  the  song — it  is  written 
down.  They  will  tell  you  what  I  cannot  say — 
the  story  of  my  life — my  love. 

She  arose  and  reached  both  hands  to  him;  a  little 
taller  than  he,  her  robe  falling  in  classic  folds  about 
her  form,  her  perfect  profile  touched  by  the  waning 
light  of  the  moon,  she  looked  a  pure  Greek,  and 
sent  Aleppo  back  to  Attica  with  the  swiftness  of 
thought. 

'•'Aleppo,  I  am  older,  and  I  know  by  some 
strange  insight,  that  you  and  I  must  part;  yet, 
wherever  you  may  be,  I  too  shall  dwell,  in  soul, 
with  you." 

"  Dear  love,  for  once  you  are  wrong;  this  voyage 
upon  the  Nile  will  last — -forever." 

She  smiled,  it  was  both  sweet  and  sad;  there  was 
a  hush  upon  the  river;  the  moon  had  paused  a 
moment  in  its  downward  course. 

"  May  you  be  right,  but  speak  to  no  one  of  this 


144  EL  RESHID 

blessed  night;  it  is  as  sacred  as  our  song — '  I  love 
you.'  "  For  one  short,  but  eternal  moment,  he  held 
her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  that  loved  form  to  his 
own — the  first  kiss,  and  the  last.  Never  on  earth, 
again,  through  the  years  that  came  and  went,  did 
their  lips  meet. 


CHAPTER  XII 

KARNAK. 

The  mighty  pillars  of  Karnak  preach  the  sermon 
of  the  ages,  not  only  defying  time,  but  telling  of 
the  bold  grandeur  in  the  mind  of  man  at  the  dawn 
of  history.  Thebes  with  its  sitting  colossi,  its 
magnificent  propylon,  its  avenue  of  sphinxes,  and 
its  temple  of  Ammon  points  unceasingly  backward 
to  the  flower  of  Egyptian  splendor,  Ramases  the 
II.  Whether  or  not  this  Pharaoh  of  Pharaohs 
lashed  on  the  Israelites  to  the  building  of  the 
temples  whose  ruins  are  the  world's  wonder, 
whether  the  stiffened  mummy  of  the  tyrant  of  the 
Pentateuch  lies  in  the  muse.um  of  Bohlak,  or  some 
where  else,  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  Ramases  the 
Great  made  the  Thebes  of  to  day  a  spot  of  unrivaled 
ruins,  to  whose  giant  remains  our  modern  monu 
ments  are  as  pygmies  and  dwarfs.  If  the  splendor 
of  ancient  Egypt  is  to  be  guessed  by  its  decay,  the 
moderns  have  no  great  cause  to  boast.  The  colossi 
still  sit  solemnly  on  the  banks  of  the  mystic  Nile, 


KARNAK  145 

while  headless  sphinxes  hide  the  secret  of  Amtnon 
whose  mighty  temple  challenges  the  centuries. 
Defiant  in  its  deathless  decay,  it  cherishes  its 
columnar  perspective  ;  and  steadfast  as  is  Isis, 
remains  the  translator  of  old  Egypt,  and  the 
revealer  of  ancient  Thebes. 

When  Aleppo  first  beheld  Karnak,  his  intellect 
rose  to  its  greatness,  though  the  shadow  of  its 
propylon  fell  like  a  cloud  upon  his  heart.  He  had 
been  supremely  happy,  as  man  is  once  in  a  life. 
On  the  right  of  the  Nile  was  a  range  of  mysterious 
mountains — in  his  soul  was  the  song  of  Rhea. 
There  was  nothing  to  show  him  that  the  great 
ruin  was  at  hand,  nor  to  warn  him  of  his  coming 
life.  Suddenly,  as  if  from  nowhere,  appeared  the 
propylon  of  a  temple,  and  with  it  the  shadow, 
beside  which  the  sunlight  of  his  after  days  must 
always  glow. 

At  Luxor,  he  found  two  letters — one  from  Caesar 
Catus,  the  other  from  the  beloved  correspondent 
whose  name  was  a  mystery.  He  kept  the  more 
precious  till  the  last,  and  read  the  words  of  Catus 
with  great  interest : 
"Dear  Aleppo: 

"  This  letter  will  be  waiting  you  at  Luxor.  What 
do  you  say  to  a  trip  with  me  later  to  Damascus  ?  I 
will  meet  you  at  Cairo  on  your  return,  and  we  will 
run  off  together  to  Syria.  Don't  disappoint  me; 
there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go — you 
have  no  ties.  Let  us  see  the  charmed  spot  together. " 


146  EL  RESHID 

There  was  much  more  to  the  letter,  but  the 
suggestion  in  regard  to  Damascus  was  of  chief 
interest.  Aleppo  smiled  to  himself — "Caesar 
thinks  I  have  no  ties;  if  he  only  knew  !  No  man 
was  ever  bound  as  I  am.  Even  Catus  cannot  drag 
me  from  Rhea — whose  eyes  of  late  are  sad." 

He  opened  the  second  letter — it  was  entitled  : 

"  PERSON AL1TY. 

"  Persons  belong  to  themselves;  the  truth  be 
hind  them,  to  everybody.  The  person  of  the 
teacher  may  be  dear,  but  the  maxims  taught  are 
priceless.  Guatama  is  dead;  the  Tripitaka  lives. 
Jesus  has  departed,  his  truth  remains. 

"Personality  is  transient,  principles  are  eternal. 

4 '  Climb  on  the  ladder  of  your  teacher  to  a  height 
where  you  can  tower  above  his  head.  Make  of  him 
a  way  to  an  end- — a  door  through  which  to  pass  to 
the  Ultima  Thule  of  your  soul's  splendor.  The 
person  may  be  loved  as  is  a  fading  flower,  the 
eternal  principle  for  which  he  stands,  adored.  He 
who  puts  his  trust  in  persons  is  floating  on  the 
glittering  sea  of  change,  but  one  who  dwells  on  Law, 
is  fixed. ' ' 

This  letter,  like  the  propylon,  was  unutterably 
dreary.  The  Great  Gate  through  which  he  was 
doomed  to  pass,  was  the  entrance  to  a  boundless  un 
known  country,  upon  whose  broad  expanse,  though 
extending  to  the  sky,  was  no  familiar  face.  He  found 
it  difficult  to  explain  the  cause  of  this  apprehension; 


KARNAK  147 

the  fear  of  Issachar  had  departed — he  felt  himself 
a  man,  in  his  secret  heart  he  kew  the  soul  of  Rhea, 
and  yet  the  glitter  of  the  heaven-kissed  desert, 
upon  which  the  shadow  of  the  propylon  fell  like  a 
band  of  mourner's  crape,  predominated  all,  and 
subdued  his  joy,  till  his  song  thrilled  with  a  sad 
rapture  like  that  of  the  dying  swan.  He  went 
among  the  ruins  of  Karnak  day  after  day,  some 
times  accompanied  by  Rhea,  more  often  alone. 

The  party  had  no  idea  of  the  secret  compact 
between  these  two;  in  fact,  Aleppo  and  Rhea  were 
less  often  together  than  before  ;  yet,  somehow  it 
was  realized  that  there  was  a  change  in  both  of 
them,  that  it  was  hard  to  understand. 

Rhea's  eyes  were  sad,  Mrs.  Hancock  declared, 
" 'twas  enough  to  make  anybody  cry,  to  be  in  a 
heap  of  rubbish, "as  she  styled  Karnak. 

"Aleppo,"  Regan  remarked,  "must  have  caught 
a  Luxor  fever — don't  know  whether  it's  of  the 
body  or  the  mind;  but  it's  apt  to  come  on  amid 
ruins.  It  might  be  the  microbes  of  old  age,  or  it 
might  be  the  ghosts  of  the  ancients.  Aleppo,  you 
see,  is  a  sort  of  a  mystic,  and  as  susceptible  as  a 
medium.  I  think  some  old  spook  of  an  Egyptian 
is  trying  to  use  him.  The  East  will  make  an  adept 
out  of  lyep,  if  I  know  myself.  Never  saw  a  fellow 
like  graveyards  as  he  does;  if  he  wants  to  dream, 
he  hunts  out  a  headstone;  if  he  wants  to  fight 
with  himself,  he  crawls  into  a  tomb.  Cypress 
trees  are  after  his  own  heart,  and  the  wail  of  the 


148  EL  RESHID 

banshee  the  sweetest  sound  on  earth.  I  never 
could  understand  " — here  he  looked  at  Mrs. 
Hancock  mysteriously,  "why  Aleppo  and  Sallus 
are  so  fond  of  each  other;  of  course  being  brothers 
cuts  no  figure.  Sal  has  no  more  respect  for  the 
dead  than  he  has  for  the  living;  don't  believe  as 
much.  That  fellow  Sal  likes  live  beauty,  if  ever 
anyone  did.  He's  getting  mopy  down  here  at 
Luxor." 

Mrs.  Hancock  tried  to  prick  Regan  with  meta 
phorical  needles  from  morning  till  night,  but  he  had 
the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros. 

"You  can't  make  me  believe  " — there  was  malice 
aforethought  written  all  over  her — ' '  that  those 
two  fellows  had  the  same  mother,  if  you  are  their 
father — which  I  don't  swallow  either." 

"  'Tis  a  big  gulp — so  diverse  in  each  particular. 
They  show  it  more  in  photographs  than  when 
together;  types  different — see?" 

"  Yes,  I  see  with  my  eyes  shut."  She  was  angry. 
Regan  slipped  away  from  her  as  easily  as  an  eel  ; 
she  could  neither  get  a  grip  on  him  nor  make  him 
speak  truth.  He  was  the  most  optimistic  pessi 
mist  that  ever  walked  the  earth.  He  kept  up  the 
spirits  of  the  party  at  Karnak  in  ppite  of  his  owl- 
like  hoot  and  frog-like  croak.  Not  in  the  least 
awed  by  the  sitting  colossi  or  the  headless  sphinxes, 
he  slandered  the  ancient  children  of  Khem  with  an 
apparently  malignant  tongue,  though  in  reality 
there  was  no  poison  in  his  fangs.  He  had  no 


KARNAK  149 

respect  for  relics,  and  called  a  scarab  a  beetle  with 
out  biting  his  lips.  The  cartouche  of  Ramases  the 
II  made  upon  him  no  impression  whatever,  and  he 
spoke  of  the  tragedy  of  the  children  of  Israel  as  a 
myth.  Regan  tore  glamour  into  shreds  and  stuck 
his  rugged  New  England  head  through  the  window 
of  the  past  without  regard  to  the  smashing  of  the 
pane.  He  was  so  much  of  an  iconoclast  that  he 
toppled  over  Karnak's  last  pillar  and  would  have 
cleaned  up  no  end  of  rubbish  had  he  not  desired  to 
be  busy  elsewhere. 

Sallus  considered  Regan  the  greatest  philosopher 
on  earth,  and  agreed  with  him  from  first  to  last. 

"  You  see,"  said  Regan  leaning  against  a  pillar 
of  the  temple  of  Ammon,  with  his  feet  on  a  block 
of  stone  as  high  as  his  head,  "I've  always  had  a 
fancy,  that  to  whitewash  Rome  would  make  it  a 
heap  healthier;  the  dust  of  ages  is  full  of  small-pox 
and  typhoid  fever." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Hancock  indignantly, 
"  that  you'd  advertise  your  egg-beater  on  the  walls 
of  Karnak  ;  'twould  be  as  good  a  place  as  any, 
according  to  your  idea." 

"  Well  now,  that  depends;  trouble  is,  'twould  be 
taken  for  a  hieroglyphic,  and  relegated  to  the  first 
Pharaoh.  No,  'twouldn't  do;  besides  the  thing  has 
been  advertising  itself  for  ten  years." 

"  Don't  you  feel,"  said  Rhea,  in  love  with  the 
quaint  humor  of  Regan,  "the  majesty  of  these 
ruins — the  age  ?  " 


150  EL  RESHID 

"  Now  Miss  Rhea,  that's  a  question;  the  majesty 
does  impress  me,  must  confess.  I've  been  trying  to 
puzzle  out  in  my  head  ever  since  I  came,  how  many 
tons  of  rock  there  are  in  this  thing  anyhow.  As  to 
the  age,  it  doesn't  count  for  much;  the  rock  anywJiere 
would  be  as  old  as  the  world,  however  you  fix  it — 
one  part  of  the  earth  is  as  aged  as  another  for  that 
matter." 

"  Of  course,  as  far  as  the  material  is  concerned," 
answered  Rhea,  laughing,  "but  the  putting  to 
gether  of  the  thing — the  building  ?  " 

"Time's  all  a  matter  of  comparison.  I  don't 
believe  Karnak  holds  a  candle  to  the  Kitchen  - 
middens  in  the  Swiss  lakes.  Historic  man  is  quite 
a  young  biped  compared  with  the  other  fellow  who 
got  in  before  history.  In  my  opinion,  the  world  is 
a  heap  older  than  we  think  it  is — and  man  with  it." 

One  day — it  was  as  bright  as  any  other — Aleppo 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  little  hotel  at  L,uxor,  and 
looked  with  half- frightened  eyes  upon  Rhea — <l  I  am 
going  over  to  Karnak  alone;  do  not  worry  if  I  am 
late  to-night." 

Rhea  bent  forward  as  though  to  kiss  him,  then 
restraining  herself,  touched  her  fingers  to  her  lips, 
and  threw  him  an  airy  salute  which  he  never  for 
got.  Often  in  years  after,  in  strange  countries  and 
stranger  conditions,  he  remembered  those  soft,  half- 
mischievous  eyes  and  the  pretty  finger  tips  that  had 
thrown  him  a  tantalizing  good  bye. 

She  stood  in  the  full  glow  of  morning,  with  a 


KARNAK  151 

smile  on  her  lips  and  in  her  eyes — the  sweetest 
promise  that  man  could  crave — and  yet  his  heart 
was  a  stone  in  his  breast. 

The  lyUxor  sky  was  in  its  usual  condition,  of 
cloudless  serenity.  The  great  temple  was  isolate, 
like  himself,  and  a  relic  of  a  life  long  gone.  He 
felt  that  he  belonged  to  another  age  and  race,  and 
had  somehow  fallen  upon  a  century  with  which  he 
was  out  of  tune.  Why  had  life  been  thrust  upon 
him  in  the  dark,  with  no  ray  anywhere  to  light  up 
the  mystery  of  himself.  He  longed  for  a  family 
record  to  show  to  Rhea — the  extended  pedigree  of 
an  honorable  house.  Kven  a  Bible  with  the 
account  kept,  something — anything,  to  present  to 
the  woman  he  loved,  as  a  clean  page  behind  him. 
He  had  dared  speak  no  word  to  her  of  the  future, 
for  the  years  ahead  are  the  legitimate  children  of 
the  past — he  had  no  past. 

And  here  he  was,  on  the  verge  of  life — his  Para 
dise,  as  he  had  said  to  Regan — hanging  over  hell. 
He  wandered,  restlessly,  among  the  ruins,  brooding. 
There  was  but  one  thing  for  him— he  must  know. 
Never  would  he  take  Rhea  to  his  heart  and  life  on 
this  uncertainty.  She  had  seen  the  shadow  on  the 
Nile;  it  was  cold,  like  a  night  mist.  He  had  given 
her  the  letters;  she  knew  what  he  knew,  but  that 
was  not  enough.  This  beautiful  woman  had  a 
proud,  Puritan  ancestry  behind  her;  every  line  of 
their  history  was  written;  the  pages  had  faded  in  the 
'sun.  For  an  instant— only  for  an  instant — Aleppo 


15'2  EL  RESHID 

pitied  himself.  He  had  led  a  clean  life — he  was 
as  chaste  as  a  pure-souled  girl,  and  had  followed 
his  higher  instincts  as  naturally  as  he  had  breathed. 
All  the  passion  and  power  in  him  had  gone  out  to 
beauty  and  truth;  burning  ever  with  that  inextin 
guishable  love  for  the  great,  the  supernal,  he  had 
wings  as  white  as  the  sea-gull's,  and  as  strong.  He 
came  to  the  propylon,  and  leaned  wearily  against 
its  inner  walls,  looking  upward  at  the  arch  over 
head  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Beyond  was  "  the 
way."  Through  this  mighty  gate,  he  would  travel 
somewhere,  over  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  a  life.  Had 
he  deserved  it  all?  Was  justice  but  a  name? 
Softly,  in  the  depths  of  his  own  soul  he  heard  a 
voice-  "  He  that  would  climb  on  a  ladder  to  the 
stars,  must  have  the  courage  to  look  down."  He 
dashed  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  stood  erect;  the 
propylon  bore  his  weight  no  more.  With  head 
thrown  back,  he  went  through  "the  gate"  and 
stood  face  to  face  with  Issachar  the  Jew.  He 
stopped  abruptly,  and  the  ancient  bowed  his  head. 

"So  you  have  followed  me  again."  Aleppo 
had  passed  the  crisis  of  his  life  and  feared  no  man, 

The  Jew,  with  quick  glance,  noted  the  change; 
instead  of  a  half-terrified  boy,  he  was  facing  a 
young  David,  whose  sling-stone  was  as  deadly  as  a 
cannon-ball.  But  Issachar  was  shrewd.  The 
whitest  child  of  heaven  ofttimes  is  more  than 
matched  by  the  wily  servant  of  the  god — ' '  on 
change." 


KARNAK  153 

"Yes,  I  have  come  to  try  again  the  common 
speech  of  human  kind.  If  that  should  fail,  I  know 
well  what  to  do." 

"  You  are  right;  hitherto  I  have  acted  the  craven 
and  the  cur.  Speak  on,  but  let  there  be  no  lies." 

' '  Lies !      'Tis  thou  that  liest. 

"I  lie  no  more." 

"Who  art 'thou  ?  "  said  Issachar. 

"  Aleppo  Bracciolini." 

"  Dost  thou  know  thy  father  and  mother  ?  ' ' 

"  I  do  not;  but  what  is  that  to  you  ?  " 

"  Much  !  Much  !  "  Here  the  Jew  moved  from 
head  to  foot  like  a  snake.  "I  have  proved  thine 
identity,  as  thou  well  knowest.  Shall  I  reveal  to 
thee  thy  past  ? ' ' 

For  a  moment  Aleppo  seemed  to  turn  to  stone, 
then,  getting  power  of  speech,  said  calmly,  "  Yes." 

The  Jew  tried  the  effect  of  his  eyes,  but  without 
avail  ;  the  young  man  looked  beyond  them  into 
space. 

"  Thou  wast  born  out  of  wedlock.  Thy  mother 
was  a  young  English  widow,  and  thy  father  a 
member  of  a  sacred  order,  sworn  to  celibacy.  The 
symbol  on  thy  back,  is  my  own,  put  there  by  the 
command  of  thy  mother,  and  known  only  to 
myself." 

Again  Aleppo's  heart  stopped  beating  ;  but  find 
ing  words  once  more,  he  faced  Issachar  with  a 
challenge  in  his  eyes.  "  Are  you  my  father  ?  " 

The  idea  was  new  to  the  Jew;  for  a  moment  he 


154  EL  RESHID 

lost  his  poise,  and  calculated  the  value  of  the  sug 
gestion,  then  threw  it  aside  as  of  no  account. 

"  Are  you  my  father?  " 

Aleppo  spoke  in  the  low  voice  of  one  in  deadly 
earnest. 

"No." 

The  Jew  smiled;  the  revolting  white  teeth  were 
all  displayed,  as  suggestive  as  those  of  a  hyena. 

The  reaction  came.  Aleppo  wiped  the  beads  of 
sweat  from  his  brow,  tossed  back  his  hair,  and 
breathed.  The  Jew  went  on. 

"  I  know  thy  father  well,  and  thy  mother;  they 
desire  thee.  I  am  their  messenger;  wherefore 
otherwise  should  I  follow  thee  here,  or  take  thee  by 
force  at  Memphis  ?  It  is  not  I  who  pursue  thee, 
but  thy  parents." 

The  blow  had  fallen  ;  the  young  man  saw  Rhea 
vanishing,  the  airy  kiss  gone  with  her.  Sallus 
and  Regan,  dim  memories  of  the  past,  and  him 
self  alone,  with  Issachar  the  Jew.  No !  What 
subtle  power  had  wafted  to  his  spiritual  sense  the 
garden  of  Damascus ;  what  dream  was  he  still 
dreaming  that  he  caught  the  scent  of  roses  and  the 
breath  of  Syrian  vales  ? 

He  stood  an  inch  taller,  and  looked  down  upon 
the  Jew. 

"  What  proof  have  you?  " 

"Come  with  me,"  said  Issachar;  for  the  first 
time  bowing  low  to  Aleppo  Romanes.  "  My 


C^BSAR  CATUS  155 

proof  is  all  in  writing,  clear  and  clean,   in  yonder 
hut;  come,  follow  me. 

Aleppo  walked  proudly  behind  the  Jew,  an  ille 
gitimate  son  of  a  disloyal  father  !  Never  in  all 
his  life  had  he  held  his  head  so  high. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
CATUS. 


In  a  room  at  the  hotel  at  lyUxor,  six  anxious 
people  were  holding  council,  drawn  together  for  the 
first  time,  and  all  of  one  mind.  It  was  the  morning 
after  Aleppo's  departure  for  Karnak,  and  he  had 
not  returned.  Mrs.  Hancock  bustled  around  ner 
vously,  suggesting  this,  that  and  the  other  to  the 
Misses  Richard,  who  looked  as  dreary  as  pall 
bearers.  Regan  was  worried  to  that  degree  that  he 
had  lost  his  humor,  while  Sallus,  wildly  impatient 
to  take  some  step  in  the  search,  was  rapidly  pacing 
the  room  ;  Rhea,  alone,  said  nothing,  though  her 
eyes  were  beyond  fathoming. 

The  excitement  had  begun  at  breakfast;  no  one 
had  known  of  his  absence  save  Rhea,  who  had 
watched  all  the  evening  for  his  home  coming,  and 
had  walked  her  room  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
The  party  had  been  in  the  habit  of  dividing  and 
going  off  on  exploring  trips  each  day,  meeting  the 
following  morning  to  relate  their  adventures  and 


156  EL  RESHID 

start  out  again.  At  first,  with  the  exception  of 
Rhea,  whose  divine  intuition  rarely  failed  her,  they 
took  the  matter  of  Aleppo's  absence  lightly, 
remarking  to  each  other  that  he  would  come  in 
later;  but  as  the  morning  grew  apace  a  cloud  settled 
over  the  whole  party,  culminating  in  a  down 
right  shower  of  surmises  and  suppositions,  which 
multiplied  on  themselves  every  instant.  What 
could  have  happened  ?  Was  he  murdered  ?  Even 
Mrs.  Hancock  found  in  her  woman's  heart  an  affec 
tion  for  the  absent  Aleppo,  whose  presence  she  dis 
liked.  In  her  feminine  inconsistency  she  mani 
fested  true  anxiety,  and  revealed  her  better  side, 
much  to  the  surprise  of  all. 

When  something  really  serious  falls  upon  one, 
the  depths  of  the  soul  are  moved,  and  the  kinship 
of  humanity  is  discovered. 

Regan  called  the  party  together  at  once  to  hold 
council,  and,  after  a  few  moment's  conversation,  it 
was  decided  that  the  two  men  should  start  imme 
diately  for  Karnak,  making  a  thorough  search  of  the 
ruins;  but  Rhea  would,  on  no  account,  be  left 
behind.  So  the  three  departed  hastily,  leaving 
Mrs.  Hancock  less  comfortable  than  she  had  been 
for  many  a  day. 

A  week  was  spent  in  untiring  search  ;  they  went 
everywhere,  notified  the  authorities,  and  moved 
heaven  and  earth;  but  Aleppo  ''was  not."  The 
dread  that  hung  over  them  at  first  was  lifted  ;  they 
expected  to  discover  his  dead  body  at  any  time, 


C^SAR  CATUS  157 

and  each  undecipherable  object  that  startled  them, 
they  shrank  away  from,  for  fear  of  a  revelation. 
Regan's  humor  was  all  gone  and  his  pessimism 
with  it;  he  neither  smiled  nor  complained,  but 
Sallus  was  a  distracted  Damon  without  his  Pythias; 
he  would  have  followed  Aleppo  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  and  here  in  Africa  his  friend  had  vanished. 
Each  night,  after  the  day's  failure  the  six  met  and 
made  new  plans,  trying  at  the  same  time  to  deci 
pher  the  riddle.  That  Aleppo  had  voluntarily  left 
them  they  never  once  considered.  He  was  utterly 
loyal.  Foul  play,  they  spoke  of  in  whispers; 
though  the  motive  for  such  a  thing  they  failed  to 
discover;  that  is,  the  most  of  them.  At  the  end 
of  the  week,  however,  Regan  called  Sallus  into  his 
room  and  locked  the  door. 

"  Sal,  I've  sifted  it  down  to  this— the  Jew  is 
behind  the  whole  business. " 

"The  Jew  !" 

"  Yes— the  arch  fiend  !  " 

"  But  we  left  him  in  Venice.' ' 

"  He  didn't  stay  there  though,  mark  my  word. 
Aleppo's  terror  had  some  backing;  he  was  incon 
stant  fear  in  Cairo,  for  he  told  me  so." 

"  Did  he  meet  Issachar  up  there  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of;  if  he  did  he  kept  still  about 
it ;  he  was  ashamed  of  his  terror,  perhaps.  I'm 
right  though;  it's  the  one  probability  out  of  the 
innumerable  possibilities.  That  Jew  was  deter 
mined  to  have  Aleppo  Romanes,  and  what  was  to 


158  EL  RESHID 

hinder  him  from  slipping  down  here  and  carrying 
him  off  from  Karnak." 

"Why  didn't  he  strike  at  Cairo?  I/ep  was 
always  wandering  about  alone." 

"  Possibly  he  wasn't  ready,  he  may  have  heard 
some  news  that  changed  his  mind.  There's  a  mys 
tery  back  of  Aleppo,  as  you  know,  yourself,  and 
it's  deepening." 

"  Does  this  idea  relieve  you  any  ?  "  asked  Sallus, 
anxiously. 

"  Yes,  and  no  ;  I  believe  his  life  is  valuable  and 
will  not  be  tampered  with  ;  in  a  sense,. that  thought 
is  comforting  ;  nevertheless  he'll  see  no  end  of 
trouble  if  my  conjecture  is  correct." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"Get  after  that  cursed  son  of  Satan,  if  I  know 
myself. ' ' 

"Shake  on  that,  Regan;  I  was  a  hog  till  L,ep  got 
hold  of  me;  I  have  something  to  live  for  now.  If  I 
don't  lay  that  Jew  may  I  be  the  cursed  son  of  the 
devil  himself." 

Sallus  rose  to  his  six  feet.  There  was  something  • 
inspiring  in  his  knotted  muscles  and  set  teeth.  He 
had  never  fully  comprehended  the  spiritual  side  of 
Aleppo,  and  for  that  reason  loved  him  with  devo 
tion.  He  had  felt  himself  a  huge  bear  in  compari 
son  with  his  friend's  fine  figure  and  beautiful  eyes, 
little  knowing  how  Aleppo  had  hung  over  him  when 
he  slept,  filled  with  admiration,  tinctured  with 


C^SAR  CATUS  159 

envy,  of  his  superb  Greek  proportions  and  hand 
some  American  face. 

They  loved,  because  they  were  entirely  different 
and  needed  each  other  beyond  telling.  Sallus 
expanded  to  the  occasion  with  the  elasticity  of  a 
true  son  of  Columbia.  He  was  the  typical  Ameri 
can,  and  required  something  large  to  draw  him  out; 
evolving  rapidly  through  opposition,  and  surpris 
ing  everybody  who  had  previously  pronounced 
judgment  upon  him.  The  more  bitterly  he  was 
interfered  with  by  environment,  the  more  ready 
was  he.  He  needed  hard  knocks,  and  the  loss  of 
Aleppo  was  a  downright  blow.  Regan,  in  his 
heart,  had  adopted  Aleppo  and  this  was  his  first 
real  grief.  So  the  two  men  combine,  and  the  Jew 
must  indeed  be  a  magician  to  escape  the  Nemesis 
upon  his  track. 

Rhea  had  passed  all  possibility  of  a  surprise;  she 
had  dreamed,  night  after  night,  that  Aleppo  had 
vanished,  and  when,  one  beautiful,  sunlit  morn 
ing,  he  went  away,  she  watched  his  retreating 
form  and  sad  face  (for  he  continually  turned  around 
to  look  back  at  her)  with  a  consciousness  that  her 
dream  had  come  true.  When  the  sun  had  set  and 
he  failed  to  return,  she  knew  that  the  shadow  of 
the  Nile  was  upon  her,  to  be  lifted,  if  ever,  under 
another  sky. 

During  that  dreary  week  at  Luxor  she  read,  over 
and  over  again  the  letters  he  had  placed  in  her 
hands.  It  was  the  strangest  courtship  that  woman 


160  EL  RESHID 

had  ever  known.  These  passionate  words  of  love 
had  been  poured  out  long  before  he  had  met  her, 
and  were  the  innocent,  spontaneous  expressions  of 
a  full  and  devoted  heart.  He  had  translated  all  of 
the  missives,  written  in  a  tongue  unknown  to 
Rhea,  and  had  enclosed  them  with  the  originals,  so 
that  she  had  no  difficulty  in  making  them  out. 
The  song'  was  in  a  number  of  them,  sometimes 
recorded  in  foreign  tongue,  and  again  in  English. 
About  this  bit  of  music  she  wondered  and  won 
dered,  and  indeed  it  would  have  puzzled  a  greater 
psychologist  than  Rhea.  A.  hard-headed,  matter 
of  fact  individual  would  have  emphatically  asserted 
that  the  explanation  was  easy.  The  word  coinci 
dence  covers  a  great  deal  ;  they  both  had  some 
time  read  the  lines  in  early  youth,  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  the  same,  and  had  retained  them  in  mem 
ory,  forgetting  that  they  had  ever  seen  them.  That 
the  same  identical  words  could  have  sprung  np  in 
the  minds  of  two  individuals  of  different  nationali 
ties  and  thousands  of  miles  apart — not  only  the 
same  words,  but  the  same  air — was  too  much  for 
even  a  credulous  person  to  believe.  Whatever  the 
fact  may  have  been,  however,  Rhea  looked  upon 
this  song  as  the  seal  of  her  soul's  kinship  to  Aleppo, 
and  she  hummed  it  over  and  over,  all  through  that 
melancholy  time  at  Luxor,  as  though  it  were  a 
funeral  dirge.  She  kept  her  own  sweet  secret;  it 
belonged  to  no  one  on  earth  save  Aleppo,  and  he, 
alas,  had  flown.  But  her  eyes  betrayed  her  with 


CATUS  161 

their  unutterable  longing;  and  Regan  read  the  sad 
story,  though  he  made  no  sign. 

The  six  returned  to  Cairo  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  discarding  the  dahabeah  and  resorting  to 
steam;  for  as  Regan  declared  to  Sallus — 

"  We  shall  never  find  Aleppo  down  here;  Issachar 
has  hustled  him  off,  as  sure  as  you're  born.  We'll 
try  Cairo — everywhere;  the  Jew  is  a  striking  figure; 
somebody  may  have  seen  him  up  north." 

They  were  scarcely  more  than  settled  at 
Shepherd's  when  a  card  was  sent  up  for  Aleppo 
Bracciolini,  on  which  was  engraved  the  name, 
Caesar  Catus.  Sallus  had  heard  Aleppo  speak  of 
him  a  hundred  times  and  rushed  into  the  parlor  at 
once." 

"A  thousand  pardons,"  said  Sallus,  "you  have 
not  heard — Aleppo  has  disappeared;  no  trace  as  yet, 
vanished  at  Karnak.  I  am  glad  you  have  come," 
all  this  in  one  breath. 

Caesar  manifested  no  surprise  whatever,  but  said 
rather  quietly,  "  Yes,  I  understand." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  know  ?  " 

His  visitor  smiled  and  stroked  his  beard.  He  was 
a  man  of  medium  height,  in  the  prime  of  life.  His 
head  was  large  and  finely  shaped,  and  though,  as 
Aleppo  had  stated,  he  was  of  oriental  extraction, 
his  appearance  failed  to  bear  it  out.  He  hailed  from 
Italy  and  was  of  the  type  of  ancient  Rome.  He 
had  a  handsome,  powerful  nose  with  the  true 
aggressive  curve ;  deep-set,  quick-moving  eyes, 


16'2  El,  RESHID 

under  heavy  imperial  brows;  and  a  smooth  cheek, 
without  prominence  of  bone,  which  was  slightly 
flushed  where  his  tawny,  well  kept  beard  had  failed 
to  intrude.  His  complexion  was  surpassingly  fair 
and  his  brow,  where  the  hair  was  thin  about  the 
temples,  white  as  sun-tinted  snow.  Punctilious  in 
dress,  and  slightly  pompous  as  to  form,  he  was  as 
striking  and  clear-cut  a  figure  as  one  often  sees, 
and  might  have  been  a  reincarnated  Caesar  of 
ancient  Rome,  being  distinctly  an  aristocrat  with 
out  the  malignity  of  the  tyrant.  In  spite  of  his 
aristocratic  lineage  he  had  the  shyness  of  genius, 
which  set  peculiarly  on  his  erect  personality  and 
gave  in  him  the  touch  of  eccentricity,  always  mani 
fested  in  men  of  this  type. 

To  be  sensitive  and  at  the  same  time  masterful  is 
to  present  a  contradiction  to  the  world. 

Behind  Caesar  Catus  was  one  of  twro  things. — 
He  was  either  the  relic  of  a  pedigree  that  had  been 
born  to  rule,  or  in  some  far  away  life,  he  himself, 
had  ruled.  He  stood  for  a  domineering  ancestry, 
or  for  another  Caesar  whose  shoes  he  still  wore. 
Whichever  was  true,  Catus  was  backed  by  some 
thing  that  he  evidenced  in  himself;  for  he  revealed 
from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  feet, 
the  aristocrat,  cursed  or  blessed  by  a  versatile  genius 
which  enabled  him  to  turn  in  any  direction  and  to 
conquer  innumerable  obstacles.  Nevertheless  this 
very  versatility  was  in  a  sense  a  detriment;  because 
.lost  in  the  charm  of  variety,  he  had,  in  times  past, 


CATUS  163 

either  as  Ms  great,  great  grand  sire  or  another  self, 
failed  to  discover  that  unity  which  makes  the 
master  out  of  the  man.  He  quivered  with  mascu 
line  nerves,  the  power  of  which  he  took  off  and 
transmuted  into  something  that  flashed  from  his 
eyes  like  the  gleam  of  gold.  He  was  impetuous 
for  or  against  a  thing,  and  as  quick  to  get  a  grip  on 
himself  as  the  steersman  is  of  the  helm. 

Whether  we  are  drawing  a  pen-portrait  of  Caesar 
Catus  or  some  other  Caesar  we  are  not  prepared  to 
decide.  We  imagine,  however,  we  write  of  some 
other  Caesar,  for  the  man  who  stood  before  Sallus 
was  not  exactly  the  one  here  pictured.  If  the 
patronizer  of  the  extremes  can  strike  a  poise,  Caesar 
Catus  had  done  it,  and  must  have  got,  by  some 
mysterious  means,  a  new  conception  of  himself  within 
the  last  few  years.  He  had  a  certain  air  of  authority 
which  was  not  that  of  blood  or  of  aristocracy, 
but  rather  derived  from  an  influx  of  wisdom  lately 
acquired,  and  which  gave  him  such  a  puzzling 
aspect  that  one  not  expert  in  human  nature  would 
have  found  him  hard  to  translate.  He  made  him 
self  unpopular  -with  the  Regan  party,  because  of 
his  indifference  about  Aleppo.  Catus  could  be  run 
after  and  liked,  or  avoided  and  disliked,  as  he  chose. 
He  had  the  power  of  not  ' '  putting  himself  out ' ' 
when  the  mood  struck  him,  that  procured  for  him 
an  ?rray  of  enemies,  bitter  indeed.  On  the  con 
trary,  with  apparently  no  effort  he  could  win  right 
and  left,  if  he  so  desired,  making  for  himself  hosts 


164  EL  RESHID 

of  friends;  both  popular  and  unpopular,  sometimes 
affable  in  the  extreme,  again  insuperably  bored,  he 
had  friends  and  foes  enough  to  send  him  to  Paradise 
and  the  Inferno  at  the  same  time  ;  consequently  he 
went  to  neither,  and  remained  content. 

As  we  have  said,  he  was  unpopular  with  the 
Regan  party;  all  except  Rhea,  who  read  more  deeply 
than  most  women.  He  had  manifested  little  or  no 
surprise  at  Aleppo's  absence,  and  expressed  it  as 
his  opinion  that  he  was  in  safe  hands,  and  would 
put  in  an  appearance  later.  This  all  seemed  childish 
and  unreasonable  in  the  face  of  facts;  but  Rhea  felt 
that  Catus  knew  more  than  he  was  disposed  to  tell, 
and  took  a  deal  of  concealed  comfort  from  the 
thought. 

The  whole  "  family  "  had  gathered  in  the  parlor 
to  talk  with  Catus  and  had  learned,  that  he  expected 
to  be  in  or  near  Cairo  for  some  time;  later  on,  how 
ever,  he  was  to  take  a  trip  to  Damascus  and  the 
Holy  Land.  After  he  had  gone,  the  six  looked  at 
each  other  without  speaking ;  then  Regan  spoke 
out — 

"I  like  the  face  of  that  man  better  than  any  I 
have  seen  for  many  a  day,  but  his  actions  give  the 
lie  to  his  looks.  How  he  can  show  so  little  loyalty 
to  an  old  and  true  friend — 'pon  my  word,  I  don't 
understand." 

"I  think  he  knows  more  than  he  tells,"  said 
Rhea. 

"Pshaw!"    Mrs.    Hancock    bristled,    "You're 


CATUS  165 

always  ferretting  mysteries  out  of  nothing;  we've 
got  the  bona  fide  thing  now  in  the  vanishing  of 
Aleppo  without  turning  that  Catus  into  a  Sphinx 
too." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Sallus,  "that  he  might 
have  shown  a  grain  of  interest;  we  don't  need  him, 
that's  certain;  he'd  be  worse  than  nothing  on  the 
track  of  Aleppo  with  his  blamed  indifference." 

Sallus  doubled  his  fists  unconsciously. 

"  I  believe  Rhea's  right,"  said  Regan. 

"  Catus  never  spirited  Aleppo  off,  that's  certain, 
but  he  suspects  lots;  and  if  he  don't  get  after  him 
in  his  own  way,  I  can't  solve  conundrums  nor  guess 
riddles." 

The  search  went  on  in  Cairo  much  as.  it  had  in 
Ivuxor.  Sal  was  indefatigable ;  Regan  stopped 
occasionally,  but  Sal  never  ate  nor  slept,  as  Mrs. 
Hancock  remarked,  but  just  kept  going  till  he  lost 
color  and  flesh.  He  was  no  more  tempted  to  bad 
ness  than  he  was  to  fly,  the  veiled  beauties  of  Cairo 
were  out  of  his  sphere  and  the  weed  and  glass, 
things  of  the  past.  His  heart  was  lead  in  his 
breast.  He  visited  revolting  places,  interviewed 
disreputable  people,  and  penetrated  the  most 
dangerous  localities  without  regard  to  his  health  and 
life. 

The  roue  had  brought  forth  a  hero,  whose  loyalty 
to  friendship  none  could  surpass.  The  same  "hail 
fellow  well  met  ' '  feeling  which  he  had  shown  in 


166  EL  RESHID 

the  bacchanal  debauch  of  his  former  days,  had 
grown  to  the  immensity  of  "  your's  until  death." 

Regan  was  amazed  at  Sallus  and  called  him  a 
book  that  had  never  been  read. 

One  night  he  came  to  the  hotel  in  a  hurry  and 
called  for  Rhea;  the  young  lady  had  retired,  but 
hastily  dressing,  emerged  from  her  apartment  and 
met  Sallus  in  the  long  hall.  He  was  intensely 
excited  and  the  words  came  from  his  lips  with  a 
rush. 

"  Miss  Nellino,  I've  seen  the  Jew  !  " 

She  had  been  informed  by  Regan  of  their  suspi 
cions  and  understood  perfectly  what  Sallus  meant  ; 
the  color  left  her  face  but  she  said  nothing. 

"I  was  prowling  'round  Cairo,  seeking  some 
clue,  when  Issachar  came  out  of  a  little  shop  and 
passed  into  another,  where  he  disappeared." 

"  What  did  you  do?  "  said  Rhea,  her  eyes  fiery 
with  excitement. 

"  Rushed  over  and  plunged  in  ;  but  he  was  no 
where  ;  the  shop-keeper  looked  as  innocent  as  a 
girl,  said  he  hadn't  seen  him  ;  but  he  lied — where's 
Regan?  " 

"  Gone  with  the  detective. ' ' 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  the  detective  was  in  Tophet; 
if  ever  I  wanted  Regan,  it's  now." 

He  remained  for  no  comment  from  Rhea,  but 
rushed  out,  leaving  her  in  an  indescribable  state  of 
anxiety  and  hope.  Was  Aleppo  in  Cairo  ?  So  near! 
She  walked  back  to  her  room  like  one  drunk, 


ARCANA  CCELESTIA  167 

steadying  herself  by  the  stair  railing  as  she  went, 
but  nothing  came  of  it. 

The  Jew,  if  in  truth  it  were  Issachar,  could 
not  be  found  ;  and  Regan  with  his  detective  (  he 
had  given  up  the  role  of  father  and  had  made  him 
self  known  to  the  whole  party  )  and  Sallus,  alone, 
went  their  weary  round  of  search  for  a  clue  to  the 
whereabouts  of  one  who,  for  aught  they  knew,  was 
dead. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
ARCANA  CCElvESTlA. 

Henrique  Romanes  lived  like  a  recluse  in  his 
house  in  Paris. 

He  received  no  guests,  and  with  the  exception  of 
an  occasional  letter,  had  cut  himself  off  from  the 
outside  world.  He  was  waiting  for  Aleppo,  expect 
ing  that  in  some  way  El  Reshid  would  discover  him 
and  bring  them  together.  As  for  himself  he  never 
lifted  a  finger  in  the  search,  feeling  that  a  master 
detective  was  on  the  track,  and  that  whatever  efforts 
he  might  make,  would  be  but  child's  play.  Nor 
had  he  any  idea  of  what  would  be  the  outcome  of 
this  meeting  with  his  son.  In  fact,  from  the  time  of 
his  half  hour's  consultation  with  El  Reshid,  he  had 
locked  the  door  of  his  Paris  house  and  remained 
inside,  forcing  himselt  by  pure  will  to  a  state  of  calm, 
which  had  become  a  condition  of  cold.  He  had 


168  EL  RESHID 

presumed,  from  his  having  written  to  Helene  of  the 
visit  of  El  Reshid,  that  she  would  abstain  from  all 
further  efforts  in  regard  to  Aleppo,  trusting  entirely 
to  one  in  whom  they  both  believed  ;  and,  having 
heard  nothing  from  her  to  the  contrary,  rested  upon 
that  conclusion. 

The  days  passed  one  after  another,  all  alike;  the 
only  break  in  the  monotony  being  the  occasional 
reception  of  a  letter  from  El  Reshid  to  Aleppo; 
otherwise  his  life  was  as  quiet  as  is  the  stagmant 
pool,  but  without  its  lillies  and  lotus-blooms.  This 
stillness  was  ominous,  and  seemed  freighted  with 
woe.  He  tried,  with  his  powerful  energy  and 
intense  will,  to  lift  the  load  from  his  heart,  and  to 
tear  off  his  shroud,  for  he  felt  himself  already 
wrapped  in  the  garments  of  the  tomb.  He  strove 
to  pierce  the  darkness  with  the  eyes  of  his  soul,  but 
the  opaque  veils  of  shadow  defied  and  frightened 
him.  He  seemed  already  dead  and  though  he 
moved  and  talked  with  a  semblance  of  life,  his 
heart  beat  time  to  a  funeral  march  ;  each  throb 
bringing  him  nearer  to  the  coffin  and  the  clod. 

It  was  a  tempestuous  winter  in  Paris.  Ice,  snow 
and  sleet  followed  or  vied  with  each  other,  half 
freezing  the  poor  and  killing  the  aged. 

Romanes  was  cold — no  heat  could  warm  him ; 
and  when  the  raging  gale  without,  struck  the  house 
like  an  enemy,  he  drew  farther  and  farther  within 
himself,  and  sat  over  the  smouldering  fire  of  his 


ARCANA  CCELESTIA  169 

own  soul,  striving  to  get  warmth  from  the  burning 
wreck  which  had  lost  its  power  of  flame. 

It  was  a  night  even  wilder  and  bleaker  than  that 
out  of  which  El  Reshid  had  come.  In  his  usual 
place  in  his  library,  with  an  unread  book  in  his 
hand,  he  had  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  storm  for 
hours;  and,  the  sash  being  lowered,  the  weird  and 
majestic  music  struck  full  upon  his  ear.  For  the 
first  time  for  long  months  he  felt  an  exhilaration 
and  renewed  life;  a  something  akin  to  the  thrill 
which  he  had  known  when  for  the  first  time  he  saw 
Helene  Cressy — an  emotion  like  that  with  which 
El  Reshid  had  inspired  him  over  and  over  again. 

A  servant  rapped  softly  at  the  library  door,  and 
receiving  a  summons  to  enter,  glided  in  like  a  grave 
phantom  and  bowed  low;  he  was  a  Hindoo  and  as 
lithe  as  a  snake.  In  soft,  melodious  voice,  and  look 
ing  as  unconcerned  as  a  dummy,  he  announced  that 
a  lady  was  in  a  hack  outside,  who  desired  to  see 
him.  Had  he  stated  that  an  angel  had  arrived, 
Romanes  could  not  have  been  more  surprised. 

' '  Did  she  hand  you  her  card  ?  " 

The  servant  shook  his  head  in  the  negative,  and 
bowed  again.  Waiting  no  longer,  Romanes  hurried 
through  the  passage  and  down  to  the  street  curb 
where  the  carriage  was  in  waiting. 

"  Romanes  ! '  '—He  would  have  known  that  voice 
on  the  farthest  star.  I  wish  to  see  you,  take  me  in." 

Helene  was  the  last  person  on  earth  whom  he 
expected  to  meet  at  his  Paris  house;  she  had  never 


170  EL  RESHID 

visited  him  in  her  life,  but  her  word  was  law.  An 
hour  later  she  was  seated  in  his  library,  or  rather 
propped  up  with  pillows  on  a  couch  where  the  fire 
light  struck  warmly  on  her  face.  She  was  very  ill, 
and  talked  rapidly  to  Romanes,  as  though  to  con 
dense  all  that  she  had  to  say  into  a  short  space  of 
time. 

' '  I  went  to  my  physician  in  Vienna  before  coming 
here,  and  he  informed  me  that  there  was  no  ray  of 
hope;  my  life  hangs  upon  a  thread.  I  feared  that 
I  should  die  without  seeing  you;  there  is  so  much 
to  tell."  She  twisted  her  fingers  nervously,  and 
the  hectic  flush  mounted  to  her  temples.  Romanes, 
for  her  sake,  suppressed  his  emotion,  though  his 
heart  was  breaking. 

"  You  see/'  said  Helene,  "  this  did  not  come  to 
me  as  it  will  to  you,  by  slow  degrees — the  shock  of 
our  meeting,  my  renewal  of  the  responsibility  of 
Aleppo,  was  a  sentence  of  death.  I  shall  never  lose 
my  youth — my  beautiful  hair  and  bright  eyes, 
Romanes."  She  smiled  with  pathetic  coquetry 
that  seemed  odd  in  one  in  the  shadow  of  the  tomb. 
"  Death  will  be  kind  to  me  and  take  me  quickly, 
with  the  roses  still  on  my  cheek.  I  love  beauty,  I 
hate  decay."  This  tortured  Romanes,  but  he  made 
no  sign.  "The  time  is  so  short,"  she  went  on, 
"only  a  day  or  two  at  most." 

She  reached  to  the  little  stand  near,  and  lifting  a 
glass  of  cordial  to  her  lips,  drained  it  to  the  dregs ; 
then,  taking  a  letter  from  her  bosom,  handed  it  to 


ARCANA   CCELESTIA  171 

Romanes.  He  perused  it  at  one  glance,  and  what 
of  color  remained  in  his  face  left  it  instantly.  It 
was  dated  at  Cairo,  and  ran  thus  : 

' '  Madame : 

"  Upon  receipt  of  a  deed  to  your  Vienna  estate,  1 
will  introduce  to  you,  in  good  health,  Aleppo 
Romanes.  Should  you  fail  to  comply  with  my 
request  you  need  make  no  attempt  to  discover 
either  myself  or  your  son.  We  shall  vanish 
forever. 

Yours, 

JACOB  ISSACHAR." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

' '  I  telegraphed  to  him  that  the  estate  should  be 
his." 

She  was  extremely  pathetic;  her  eyes  had  the 
light  of  death  in  them,  and  were  unnaturally 
bright.  She  kept  clasping  and  unclasping  her 
hands,  and  watching  the  stern  face  of  Romanes, 
with  the  intensity  of  one  conscious  of  having  made 
a  mistake;  yet,  withal,  so  noble  in  her  complete 
self-abandonment,  that  a  heart  of  ice  must  needs 
have  melted. 

Romanes  felt  that  Helene's  compact  would  per 
haps  be  fatal  to  the  finding  of  Aleppo;  yet  in  this 
supreme  moment,  with  death  knocking  at  the  door, 
all  care  for  his  son  vanished. 

Helene  ! — Helene  !  There  was  naught  else  in 
the  universe  now;  the  stern  precepts  of  El  Reshid 


172  EL  RESHID 

were  forgotten;  the  order  was  a  dream.  Only 
those  anxious,  beaming  eyes,  with  earth's  last  flash 
in  them,  and  the  nervous  hands,  clasping  and 
unclasping;  only  those  hectic  cheeks,  blushing  at 
their  meeting  with  the  bride-groom,  death.  Only 
Helene.  What  were  the  few  years  of  stress  and 
fever;  what  the  one  mistake  ;  even  the  sad  soul, 
wandering,  lonely  on  earth  without  parents  or 
country — what  of  him  ?  Weighed  in  the  balance 
with  the  love  eternal  they  were  light,  like  vapor, 
and  invisible  as  air.  She  was  grand  in  her  dying; 
she  had  given  all,  and  the  cursed  Jew  would  force 
upon  her  the  dregs  of  the  cup. 

In  this  supreme  moment,  Romanes  saw  his  life  of 
a  day  like  a  passing  shadow,  already  vanishing  into 
memory's  dream.  He  felt  himself  cold,  wretched, 
selfish,  debauched.  What  was  his  great  wisdom,  in 
the  face  of  this  passion,  which  could  warm  up 
to  death  with  the  fire  of  self-sacrifice?  Her  lip 
quivered;  she  discovered  no  approval  in  his  face, 
nor  love  in  his  touch.  She  strove  to  read  the  book 
of  his  soul,  but  finding  it  closed,  the  tears  welled 
up  in  her  dying  eyes.  The  saddest  sight  on  earth  is 
the  tear  of  one  half  dead. 

He  would  have  given  all  the  world  if  he  could 
have  told  her  that  he  cared  nothing  for  the  order, 
the  teacher,  or  Aleppo;  that  she,  herself  was  every 
thing — everything ;  but  his  lips  refused  him  speech. 

It  was  bitter  to  be  so  judged,  yet  he  had  forced  it 
upon  her — the  misapprehension,  the  despair.  Even 


A  PROBLEM  173 

in  dying  she  was  proud;  and  he,  more  abject  than 
a  slave  in  her  sacred  presence,  carried  himself  with 
the  demeanor  of  a  prince.  Such  is  the  anomaly 
called  man. 

Helene  picked  up  the  letter;  tears  fell  on  the 
page.  She  folded  It  carefully,  and  returned  it  to 
her  bosom;  then,  lying  down  calmly,  turned  her 
face  to  the  wall.  Her  beautiful  brown-tinted  hair 
had  loosened  and  fallen  over  the  pillow,  a  plaything 
for  the  firelight,  which  flashed  in  and  out  with  fitful 
shimmer.  For  a  moment  Romanes  clung  to  his 
chair  for  support,  then,  forgetting  everything  save 
Helene,  he  threw  himself  down  by  her  side,  and 
buried  his  face  in  the  tangle  and  mesh  of  her  beau 
tiful  hair.  An  occasional  spasm  shook  him  from 
head  to  foot,  but  no  word  could  he  find  in  which  to 
tell  her  the  depths  of  his  woe. 

The  fire  went  out  on  the  hearth,  and  the  icy 
wind  blew  in  at  the  open  sash.  At  last,  rousing,  he 
softly  touched  the  cheek  of  the  woman  beside  him; 
the  hand.  She  was  dead. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A  PROBLEM. 

There  are  men  as  easy  to  read  as  a  child's  primer, 
and  others  harder  to  decipher  than  the  •  Book  of 
Revelation.  Only  a  magician  comprehends  a 
magician.  The  Sibylline  scroll  is  revealed  to  none 
save  those  who  have  the  key. 


174  EL  RESHID 

Caesar  Catus  was  a  problem  to  Sallus  and  Regan ; 
they  had  met  him  a  number  of  times  after  his  first 
call  at  Shepherd's  and  they  grew  less  acquainted 
with  him,  but  more  fascinated  every  day.  One 
night,  on  a  street  in  Cairo,  they  came  plump  against 
him,  and  he  insisted  that  they  visit  him  at  once. 
The}'  went  to  a  house,  whose  bird-cage  balconies 
hung  over  the  street,  and  were  introduced  into 
apartments,  the  like  of  which  they  had  never  seen 
on  earth.  It  was  a  room,  impromptu,  he  said  and 
got  up  for  a  temporary  habitation,  but  one  would 
have  thought  that  he  had  fixed  himself  for  eternity, 
so  elaborate  was  his  environment  and  so  numerous 
were  his  belongings.  It  was  a  sculptor's  den,  an 
artist's  studio,  and  a  musician's  retreat.  He 
worked  in  clay,  he  dabbled  in  paints,  and  scraped 
the  strings  of  his  violin  with  a  ready  bow.  There 
were  books,  portfolios,  curios,  bronzes  and  rugs. 
He  occupied  a  number  of  apartments  all  blending 
in  and  intruding  upon  each  other  in  an  indescrib 
able  fashion.  His  audacity  in  the  rainbow  tints 
made  him  their  master;  his  color  blindness,  as  he 
called  it,  resulting  in  combinations  that  bewildered 
and  charmed.  He  was  daring  with  red,  and  the 
absence  of  the  mezzo  shades  was  noticeable  at  a 
glance;  but  he  reveled  so  much  in  the  shadows  and 
browns,  that  all  things  were  toned  and  softened  in 
a  way  that  no  son  of  the  Occident  can  manage. 
Jewelled  lamps  hung  here  and  there,  giving  a  sub 
dued,  smoky  light,  that  added  a  clouded  brilliancy 


A    PROBLEM  175 

to  the  place.  He  had  "  slung  things  together  "  he 
said;  but  some  people's  slinging  so  far  excels  other 
folks'  studied  art,  that  comparisons  are  out  of  order. 

No  sooner  had  they  arrived  at  this  unique  suite 
of  apartments,  than  Catus  retired  to  his  dressing 
room  to  appear  five  minutes  later,  as  a  thorough 
Oriental,  having  on  a  mysterious  robe  with  droop 
ing  sleeves,  which  was  a  cross  between  that  of  a 
Japanese  and  a  Hindoo.  On  his  head  was  a  red 
fez  which  set  off  becomingly  the  tawny  coloring 
of  his  beard  and  hair,  while  it  emphasized  the 
Roman  cast  of  his  face.  That  he  was  devoted  to 
tobacco  no  one  could  deny  who  looked  about,  there 
were  pipes  of  every  description,  oriental  and 
occidental;  cigars,  small  and  large,  pale  and  black, 
beside  cigarettes  and  plug  cut.  Regan  trembled;  he 
had  become  a  total  abstainer,  and  this  array  was 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear.  Catus  had  filled 
the  apartments  with  fumes  of  incense — aloes, 
sandal  wood,  myrrh,  and  the  curling  smoke  ascended 
ceilingward  like  ethereal  snakes. 

"Now  then" — Caesar  was  a  fine  host — "we'll 
have  our  coffee."  He  clapped  his  hands  sugges 
tively,  and  a  slim  Arab  came  upon  the  scene  as 
though  materialized  then  and  there.  He  must  have 
been  concealed  behind  the  arras,  but  from  appear 
ances  he  was  an  effect  without  a  cause.  In  his 
hands  was  a  tray  upon  which  were  three  tiny 
jewelled  cups,  containing  the  far-famed  coffee  of 


176  El*  RESHID 

Egypt,  black  and  strong.  It  exhilarates  one  like 
wine,  and  set  the  men's  tongues  all  going  together. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Regan,  "  this  is  the  first  time 
I  have  been  comfortable  since  I  came  to  Cairo; 
somehow  I  'm  not  worrying  as  I  was,' '  and  a  flash 
of  the  old  humor  lighted  up  his  rugged  face.  "It's 
strange  how  one  fellow  will  get  a  hold  on  another  ; 
that  Aleppo  anchored  me;  since  he  vanished,  I've 
been  scudding  like  a  ship  under  bare  poles.  I 
wouldn't  have  thought  anybody  could  have  held 
me  like  that.  Sal's  case  is  different.  But  I'm 
beyond  myself,  that's  a  fact." 

"Everybody  is,  for  that  matter,"  answered  Catus, 
at  the  same  time  lighting  a  prime  Havana  and 
establishing  himself  in  a  chair,  whose  fat  padding 
threatened  to  bury  him  altogether.  He  looked 
supremely  content.  "  Everybody  is,"  he  went  on; 
' '  we  express  about  as  much  of  ourselves  in  a  life 
time  as  is  good  for  us;  but  I  tell  you,  we're  bigger 
than  we  seem." 

"  I've  heard  it  said,"  replied  Regan,  sighing  with 
inward  regret  for  his  vanished  quid,  "that  we 
would  extend  from  here  to  Jupiter,  if  we  were 
expanded  to  our  final  possibilities  ;  of  course  we'd 
be  rather  vaporous,  but  we'd  get  there  all  the 
same." 

"I'd  rather  be  more  condensed."  said  Sallus— 
the  boy  was  weary  and  half  asleep;  he  had  scarcely 
rested  since  his  return  to  Cairo,  and  this  was  his 
first  chance  at  luxury.  Catus  scanned  him  admir- 


A  PROBLEM  177 

ingly  ;  he  was  the  final  touch  to  the  room,  the 
masterpiece  of  Greek  art.  Phidias  could  have  well 
turned  him  out,  or  Praxiteles.  Sallus  said  nothing 
more,  but  succumbed  at  once  and  lay  the  whole 
evening,  a  beautiful,  dreaming  statue,  from  which 
Catus  scarcely  took  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he'd  let  me  do  it  ?  "  Catus  said 
at  last,  looking  at  Regan. 

"Do  what?" 

"  Make  a  copy  of  him;  he's  the  finest  male  speci 
men  I've  struck  in  this  incarnation." 

"  Don't  know  ;  guess  he's  too  restless  ;  he  isn't 
what  he  used  to  be,  he's  pining  for  Aleppo,  same 
as  I  am — beats  all  what  a  hold  that  fellow  had." 

Catus  said  nothing,  but  rose  and  lifted  a  damp 
cloth  from  a  life-size  clay  head,  which  stood  upon 
his  moulding  board. 

"Great  Scott!  that's  Rhea,"  said  Regan  with 
amazement. 

"  I'm  glad  you  recognize  it;  'twas  meant  for  her." 

"  Don't  tell  me  she's  been  sitting  down  in  this 
den."  Regan  stared  at  the  head  with  a  glare  in 
his  eyes. 

"Not  exactly" — Catus  took  out  his  cigar  and 
looked  lovingly  upon  its  red  end;  then  stuck  it 
back  in  his  mouth  and  puffed  vigorously. 

"But  it's  a  perfect  likeness, "  said  Regan  with 
suspicion. 

"  What  of  it;  don't  you  remember  I  saw  her  at 
Shepherd's  ?  " 


178  EIv  RESHID 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  can  fix  a  face  like 
that  in  your  mind  !  " 

"  'Twas  easy  enough  to  fix  Miss  Nellino's  it's  a 
veritable  Phryne,  and  takes  me  back  to  Greece." 

"  I'll  buy  that  of  you,"  said  Regan  shrewdly. 

"  It's  not  for  sale."  He  covered  it  up  with  as 
much  reverence  as  he  was  capable  of  showing — 
which  was  very  little,  and  sitting  down  once  more, 
lighted  a  fresh  cigar. 

Regan  failed  to  settle  himself  so  quickly;  he  was 
puzzled  about  the  clay  head  of  Rhea. 

"  It's  hard  to  find  a  face  like  Miss  Nellino's;  it 
has  the  Mono  Ljza  charm  and  the  Greek  caste. 
There  are  plenty  of  Hellenic  heads,  with  no  ex 
pression  whatever,  and  hundreds  of  magical  faces 
with  no  purity  of  form;  but  Miss  Rhea,  as  you  call 
her,  has  the  witchery  and  the  outline.  I  never  have 
seen  just  this  thing  in  life  before— that  is,  this  life. 
"By  the  way,"  abruptly  changing  the  subject,  "do 
you  like  music  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  it's  fiddle  playing ;  there's  nothing  like 
the  cat-gut  and  bow  to  my  mind." 

"You  are  right,  if  ever  you  were;  but  do  you 
suppose  'twill  wake  him  ?  " 

Regan  cast  his  eyes  over  Sallus;  "  Don't  believe 
a  thunder-clap  would  bring  him  out  of  it;  he's  half 
dead.  I  guess  it's  the  best  thing  that  could  have 
happened — your  dragging  us  in  here;  he's  getting 
a  rest  at  last." 

Catus  began  softly  to  tune  his  violin — taking  but 


A  PROBLEM  179 

an  instant  about  it;  he  drew  the  bow  across  the 
strings  with  such  exquisite  delicacy  that  one  was  led 
to  expect  a  love  rapture  or  the  plaint  of  a  nightin 
gale.  To  the  surprise  of  Regan  he  burst  into  a 
queer,  mysterious  song,  with  something  of  a  rollic 
in  it.  He  played  a  few,  fantastic  strains,  and  then, 
scarcely  touching  the  strings  of  his  bow,  dashed  off 
into  a  tarantella;  afterward  singing  one  stanza  in 
baritone,  the  next  in  tenor;  to  fall  upon  his  violin 
again,  and  draw  forth  more  weirdness  and  melody. 
It  was  a  peculiar  performance,  a  sort  of  medley  of 
Tyrolese  extravaganza  and  Japanese  wail.  A  cross 
between  oriental  and  occidental  music,  which  pro 
duced  a  tipsy  banshee,  that  both  amused  and 
frightened  the  listener,  with  its  sorrowful  merri 
ment.  And  this  was  the  song  : 

Two  dancing  girls  from  Cairo  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 
An  expert  and  a  tyro  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 

One  tripped  from  eve  till  morning, 

Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 

Her  lover's  kisses  scorning, 

Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 

The  other  perished  grimly, 
Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 
Her  dream  is  cherished  dimly, 
Ha  !(ha!— ha!  ha! 

Two  dancing  girls  from  Cairo  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 
An  expert  and  a  tyro  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !— ha  !  ha  ! 


180  EL  RESHID 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Regan,  scrutinizing 
Sallus,  to  see  if  he  still  slept,  "  whether  I  like  that 
or  not;  you  see  it's  beyond  me.  I  never  tried  to 
shine  up  to  dancing  girls  but  once,  and  then  got 
snubbed.  I  guess  we  aren't  elective  affinities. " 

Catus  was  not  a  smiling  man,  but  his  eyes 
laughed  a  little.  Regan  had  stopped  abruptly  in 
his  talk  and  was  staring  at  a  picture  which  hung 
right  in  front  of  him. 

' '  Did  you  do  that,  Catus  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  why?" 

"Never  mind;  though  I'll  say  this  much;  I 
wouldn't  sleep  in  the  same  room  with  that  thing 
for  a  twenty  dollar  gold  piece." 

"Ah!  What's  the  matter?"  He  lighted  a 
third  cigar. 

"  Everything,  or  nothing;  I  don't  know  which." 

"It's  called  'The  Devil  and  the  Angel;'  an 
original  design.  Do  you  consider  it  good  work  ?  " 

"Too  all-fired  good.  If  I  had  the  thing,  I'd  cut 
it  apart;  I'd  keep  the  angel  and  send  the  devil  to 
sheol." 

"  They  are  better  together ;  they  show  you  your 
two  selves,  or,  rather,  your  extremes  of  possibility." 

"  Bosh  !  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Catus,  but  I  could 
never  be  one  nor  the  other  ;  that  angel  is  as  much 
beyond  me,  as  is  the  prettiest  woman  in  Christen 
dom,  and  the  devil — I  couldn't  touch  him  with  a 
ten -foot  pole." 

"That's  because  you  think  you  are  smaller  than 


A   PROBLEM  181 

you  are.  The  fact  is,  in  Jupiter  you'd  be  the 
devil,  on  earth  the  angel;  you've  got  a  long  stretch, 
Mr.  Regan." 

"  May  be," — without  the  least  air  of  being  con 
vinced,  "  I  wouldn't  have  that  thing  in  my  bed 
room,  though;  but  what's  this?  " 

He  took  up  some  parchment,  covered  with  what 
seemed  to  him  hieroglyphics,  and  scanned  it  search- 
ingly. 

"  I'll  be  blamed  if  that  isn't  exactly  the  style  of 
writing  that  Aleppo  used  to  indulge  in." 

"  True, "  said  Catus,  unconcernedly,  "I  taught 
him  the  dialect  and  the  symbols.  That  scroll  con 
tains  an  outline  of  the  cult  of  the  Olympians." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  twelve  apostates  on  the 
Greek  mountain  ?  ' ' 

"  Hardly,  there  are  hundreds  of  these." 

"What  do  they  do — what's  their  profession?  " 

"  They  do  a  great  many  things,  out  of  sight;  and 
they  profess  the  law  of  antithesis. " 

"Strikes  me  that's  a  good  thing;  how  do  they 
work  it?  " 

"  About  as  polarit}'  is  worked  in  physics.  Action 
and  reaction's  their  hobby;  the  meeting  of 
extremes,  and  all  that." 

"  Exactly  ;  it's  clear  as  mud." 

"  I  told  you  that  they  kept  out  of  sight." 

"Well,  the  wicked  love  darkness  rather  than 
light ;  I  suppose  they're  bad." 

"That  depends,"   said   Catus;    "'twould   have 


182  EL  RESHID 

been  rather  uncomfortable  for  them  about  the  time 
of  the  middle  ages,  if  they  had  shown  a  hand." 

"So  old  as  that!  must  be  antiquated,"  said 
Regan. 

"The  so-called  mummy  is  not  dead,  though;  you 
can't  kill  an  immortal." 

"Are  you  one  of  them?"  said  Regan,  more 
blunt  than  polite. 

Catus,  as  though  deaf,  clapped  his  hands  once 
more,  and  the  invisible  became  visible  in  the  shape 
of  the  Arab,  this  time-  bearing  cream,  cakes  and 
fruit. 

"  Have  a  bite, "said  Catus,  "shall  we  wake  up  the 
Greek  ?"  But  Sallus,  through  some  sub-conscious 
ness  of  the  good  things  awaiting  them,  was  already 
rubbing  his  eyes,  and  looking  lamb-like  in  his 
humility. 

Nothing  more  was  said  of  the  Olympians,  and, 
after  the  supper,  the  visitors  left. 

"  Ton  my  word,"  said  Regan,  when  he  reached 
the  street  with  Sallus,  "  I  believe  Catus  is  a  sort  of 
magician,  second  only  to  the  Jew.  Can  do  no  end 
of  things,  and  one's  as  good  as  another.  He  has 
painted  the  most  diabolical  picture  on  the  planet ; 
the  background  is  a  blending  of  light  and  shade, 
and  right  about  the  center  of  the  uncanny  thing  is 
a  figure  made  up  of  two — an  angel  and  a  devil ; 
they  blend  together,  like  the  sky  and  a  thunder 
cloud  ;  the  angel  is  beyond  compare,  and  the  devil 
worse  than  Faust's  conception,  they  are  the 


A    PROBLEM  183 

queerest  couple  that  were  ever  conceived;  the 
Siamese  twins  can't  hold  a  candle  to  them;  its  a 
pity  you  didn't  see  it." 

"  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me,  "  said 
Sal;  "I  was  so  dead  gone  I  just  turned  in.  I 
could 't  help  it  to  save  my  life." 

"  Plain  enough,"  answered  Regan,  "'twas  the 
incense;  some. folks  can't  stand  incense,  but  he  did 
something  else." 

' '  What  was  it  ?  "  said  Sallus,  interested. 

"He  sang  a  song,  about  two  Cairo  dancing 
girls." 

"What!     He?" 

"Yes,  he!" 

"He  must  be  hard  up,"  said  Sallus,  whistling. 

"  Don't  know  about  that;  sure's  you're  born,  you 
never  can  tell  what  a  man  like  Catus  will  do  next; 
he  springs  surprises  on  you  just  as  he  did  the 
Arab;  he  has  no  more  reverence  than  a  long-billed 
eagle,  yet,  he  has  made  a  clay  bust  of  Rhea." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  It  was  Sallus's  turn  to  wake 
up.  "Of  Rhea?" 

"  Yes,  of  Rhea;  it's  good  too,  caught  her  like 
ness,  that  day  he  called  at  the  hotel,  carried  it 
around  in  his  head,  or  his  heart,  till  he  imprisoned 
it  in  clay;  now  he  has  got  her." 

"  He  must  be  uncommon  smart, ' '  said  Sallus  in  a 
maze. 

"  Smart's  no  word  for  it;  it's  uncanny,  I  tell 
you. " 


184  EL  RESHID 

"If  he  would  only  put  some  of  his  brains  into 
hunting  for  Lep,  I'd  like  him  better." 

Upon  Sallus  saying  this,  they  •  were  both  swal 
lowed  by  the  great  hotel,  and  lost  to  view. 

After  they  had  left  him,  Catus  lighted  another 
cigar;  his  capacity  in  the  direction  of  the  weed  was 
enormous;  then,  clapping  his  hands  again,  the 
Arab  appeared,  carrying  a  beautiful  South  Sea 
shell  upon  which  lay  a  letter.  The  moment  that 
Catus  was  possessed  of  it,  his  aspect  changed;  he 
had  been,  through  the  evening  an  indifferent,  non- 
chalent  sort  of  person,  but  with  the  touch  of  the 
letter  he  became  nervous  and  reverential,  and, 
tearing  off  the  envelope,  he  read  it  out  loud.  It 
was  entitled  : 

"  FACT  AND  FICTION. 

"  You  are  too  apt  to  settle  down  upon  yourself 
as  you  are.  The  potentialities  of  your  being  to 
a  great  extent,  you  let  alone.  Of  course  you  are 
busy  and  extremely  energetic  along  the  lines  on 
which  you  have  started,  but  there  is  danger  of  get 
ting  into  the  ruts  even  there. 

"  We  have  driven  you  to  reason  with  a  whip  of 
knotted  cords.  We  have  insisted  on  it;  in  fact, 
our  philosophy  has  no  basis  other  than  logic  ;  yet, 
the  fact  that  logic  is  at  the  bottom,  proves  that 
sentiment,  imagination,  and  emotion  are  at  the  top. 

"  It  is  a  poor  animal  that  is  all  bones  and  no  fat; 
a  skeleton,  whose  ribs  shine  through  his  drawn 


A  PROBLEM  185 

skin,  is  not  after  our  fancy.  Logic,  if  intense 
enough,  can  move  a  man  to  tears;  it  is  the  mount 
ain  whose  grandeur  is  overwhelming;  it  is  the  tor 
rent  that  sweeps  all  before  it;  it  is  the  whirlwind 
with  fury  in  its  breath.  The  splendor  of  a  logical 
syllogism  turns  ice  to  fire.  A  terrible  result  of  logic 
will  carry  conviction  that  culminates  in  passion. 
L,et  an  orator  pour  a  volley  of  logic  on  the  heads 
of  an  audience,  and  he  rouses  them  to  frenzy. 
Extremes  meet;  passion  flames,  and  action  follows. 
"  Our  logic  means  nothing  if  it  has  failed,  by  this 
time,  to  rouse  you  to  emotion.  We  believe  that  it 
has  ;  the  fact  that  fiction  is  running  riot  with  you 
is  a  good  sign;  fiction  is  the  mate  and  opposite  of 
fact.  You  would  freeze  on  fact,  if  fiction  had  not 
blown  at  the  flame.  The  severe  nakedness  of  truth 
sometimes  calls  for  cosmetics  and  dyes;  bald  truth, 
nude  truth,  exposed  truth,  palls  after  a  time;  so  we 
dress  her  up.  She  is  truth  still,  for  however  you 
may  turn  her,  fiction  is  fact,  and  truth  is  error. 
This  is  a  paradox.  Notice,  truth  is  many  sided; 
she  is  false  when  she  shows  a  rim  of  herself,  to  this 
extent — that  she  implies  that  she  is  exposing  all. 
She  is  true,  in  that  whatever  manifestation  is  laid 
bare,  it  is  an  exact  manifestation  of  herself,  in  a  way. 
She  is  false  in  her  specialization,  true  in  her  gener 
alization;  that  is,  she  misleads  by  her  exhibition  of 
the  part  as  to  the  consistency  of  the  whole.  She  is 
true,  in  that  every  part  stands  for  the  spoke  of  its 
relative  wheel.  Thus  truth  and  fiction  are  two 


186  BL  RESHID 

poles  of  one.  To  the  Master  there  is  no  fiction; 
to  the  Master  all  is  fiction;  that  is,  he  goes  by  steps 
— specialization,  or  by  bounds — generalization;  he 
leaps  from  extremes  to  extremes,  or  walks  slowly, 
saying  one  thing  at  a  time.  Thus,  he  who  has  not 
reveled  in  the  opposite  of  truth,  which  is  fiction, 
is  but  half-fledged. 

ADDENDUM. 

The  fiction  of  truth  lies  in  this,  that  when  you  see 
but  one  spoke,  the  chances  are,  that  you  will  relate 
it  to  the  wrong  wheel.  The  spoke  is  a  true  one, 
but  you  find  the  fallacy  in  attempting  to  place 
it.  An  expert  can  tell  what  kind  of  a  wheel  a 
certain  spoke  fits.  To  get  into  the  real  charm  of 
fiction,  one  must  utterly  ignore  the  wheel,  and  con 
sider  an  unlimited  number  of  spokes. 

The  fiction  of  theology  and  orthodoxy,  and  so- 
called  philosophy,  lies  in  putting  yellow,  green  and 
blue  spokes  together;  some  longer  and  some  shorter; 
and  he  who  enjoys  superstitiously  his  church  or  his 
cult,  is  the  one  who  never  wakes  up  to  the  fact 
that  there  is  a  wheel  at  all. 

The  true  sage  makes  no  such  mistake,  and  con 
sequently  revels  understandingly  in  parable,  story 
telling,  fancy  and  fable.  Christ  was  the  poet  of 
Syria;  he  wrote  the  epic  of  the  Jew. 

In  studying  character,  the  most  of  us  commit 
this  grave  error,  we  take  a  yellow  spoke  of  a  man 
and  put  him  beside  a  blue  one,  where  he  wiggles 


A  PROBLEM  187 

and  waggles,  being  too  short  for  the  rim.  We 
grumble  and  growl,  because  he  fails  to  fit,  and 
finally  decide  that  he  is  no  true  spoke  at  all.  L,et 
me  tell  you,  that  he  is  just  as  much  of  one  as 
yourself,  but  you  have  stuck  him  into  the  wrong 
wheel,  and  betray  your  own  insufficiency  in  con 
sidering  him  afterward.  . 

The  Master  knows  how  to  fit  the  spokes,  or  to 
ignore  the  rim  altogether.  He  never  spoils  the 
fancy  of  his  fable,  by  thinking  it  untrue,  on  the 
contrary  he  turns  fiction  into  fact  by  believing  in 
it  for  the  time  being,  in  toto.  Nor  does  he  dream 
that  each  event  in  his  history  is  fallacious,  until  he 
intentionally  throws  off  the  glamour,  as  a  bird 
shakes  the  dew  from  its  wings,  when  new  washed, 
he  starts  after  fact  again,  with  a  vim  which  a  clean 
man  always  has. 

The  paper  was  signed  with  a  peculiar  symbol. 
Catus  read  it  over  a  number  of  times,  then  putting 
it  on  file  with  other  similar  letters,  went  to  his 
writing  desk  and  dashed  off  the  following  : 

Have  postponed  my  visit  to  Syria ;  hope  to  go 
later;  will  let  you  know  all  facts.  Have  a  strange 
feeling  that  something  has  happened  in  Paris  ;  will 
make  certain. 

Yours, 

A  like  symbol  to  that  on  the  letter  just  received 
was  stamped  at  the  end.  Then  the  Arab  entered 
with  the  South  Sea  shell,  to  depart  in  an  instant 


188  EL  RESHID 

with  the  second  epistle,  whereupon  Catus  threw  him 
self  on  the  divan  where  Sallus  had  been  lying,  and 
went,  as  though  with  a  clear  conscience,  into  the 
region  of  dreams. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  CANTANKEROUS  OLD  LADY. 

Regan  and  Sallus  held  a  consultation  the  next 
day  after  their  visit  to  Mr.  Catus. 

"Understand,"  said  Regan,  "  I  don't  condemn 
him;  simply  can't  grasp  him.  His  indifference 
about  Aleppo  would  imply  that  he  knows  some 
thing;  if  he  does  it  is  his  duty  to  come  out  and  say 
so;  that's  my  opinion." 

"And  mine  too,"  said  Sallus;  "  of  course,  if  it 
is  sifted,  it  amounts  to  this:  He  either  knows  or 
he  does  not;  if  he  does  not  he  is  the  most  milk  and 
water  friend  conceivable;  if  he  does,  he  is  in  league 
with  the  Jew.  Which  ever  way  you  look  at  it,  he's 
not  to  my  liking." 

"Maybe  you're  right,"  said  Regan,  "  though 
somehow  I  don't  feel  like  committing  myself.  One 
thing  is  certain,  however,  we  must  keep  in  with 
him  till  we  settle  our  minds.  If  he  is  Issachar's 
ally,  we  ought  to  know  it;  if  we  are  convinced 
that  he  isn't,  we  can  cut  him  at  once." 

"  I  hate  playing  the  hypocrite,"  said  Sallus. 

"  True,   but  this    isn't   exactly   hypocrisy;     we 


A  CANTANKEROUS  OLD  LADY  189 

don't  put  our  arms  around  him  and  kiss  him,  do 
we?  Nor  get  on  our  knees?  We  just  exchange 
visits,  hover  about,  etc.  We  are  neither  enemies 
nor  friends;  most  people  in  the  social  world  are 
indifferent  to  each  other.  We  are  just  like  the  rest; 
it  isn't  hypocrisy,  it's  mutual  understanding." 

But  Sallus  was  not  going  to  be  a  good  detective, 
that  was  evident.  For  downright  hard  work  and 
complete  self  sacrifice  no  one  could  beat  him;  but 
when  it  came  to  sitting  on  the  fence,  with  one  leg 
in  the  enemies'  quarters  and  the  other  in  his  own, 
well,  he  was  not  the  man  for  it;  so  he  went  on  his 
"  own  hook,"  and  Regan  fraternized  with  Catus. 

Mrs.  Hancock  took  Rhea  to  task  one  morning, 
though  it  was  understood,  at  the  beginning  of  their 
trip,  that  her  aunt  should  follow  her  to  the  earth's 
end;  for  that  matter,  the  young  lady  was  her  own 
mistress,  and  paid  all  Mrs.  Hancock's  expenses, 
yet  the  old  lady  was  becoming  exasperated,  and 
broke  out  in  open  rebellion  one  fine  day  in  Cairo. 

"We've  staid  here  long  enough;  I'll  not  remain 
another  week  for  anybody." 

"Do  just  as  you  like,  Aunt  Carrie;  I  have  no 
power  nor  desire  to  compel  you;  nevertheless, 
even  though  you  go,  I  shall  stay  till  Mr.  Regan  an 
Sallus  give  up  the  search  for  Aleppo.  I  have  made 
several  lady  friends  here,  both  English  and  Ameri 
can,  and  really  have  no  need  of  you,  unless  you 
desire  to  be  with  me." 

"  What  I  want  to  know,  is,  what  Aleppo  Brae- 


190  EL,  RESHID 

ciolini  is  to  you,  that  you  throw  yourself  at  his 
head,"  said  Mrs.  Hancock. 

Rhea  bit  her  lip  and  turned  white,  but  her  power 
of  transition  from  anger  to  humor  was  marvelous. 

"  If  I  remember  rightly,  Aunt  Carrie,  in  Brindisi 
you  gave  nae  a  lecture,  the  text  of  which  was  just 
the  contrary.  You  advised  me  to  use  all  the  arts 
and  wiles  of  a  first-water  society  girl  to  catch  any 
body  in  the  shape  of  a  man.  You  even  requested 
me  to  go  so  far  as  to  give  up  the  best  part  of  myself, 
presenting  humbly  to  whatever  suitor  might  appear, 
a  perishable  thing  only.  You  more  than  advised, 
you  insisted,  informing  me  that  I  was  already  on 
the  verge  of  middle  life  and  would  soon  be  out  of 
the  market.  You  implied  that  it  was  all  a  ques 
tion  of  supply  and  demand;  and  here  you  are  going 
back  on  what  you  have  said. 

But  Rhea  was  really  too  sad  at  heart  to  indulge 
in  much  humor;  though  hope,  of  late,  had  set  her 
soul  singing  again,  and  enabled  her  to  do  battle 
with  her  aunt  in  the  old  fashion. 

' '  You  might  as  well  be  dead  as  to  get  in  love 
with  a  mystery  like  him;  there  is  no  telling  who  he 
is,  nor  what  his  parents  are." 

' '  We'll  leave  Aleppo  out  of  the  question,  Auntie, 
if  you  please;  though  I'll  say  this  much,  once  and 
for  all,  to  set  your  mind  at  rest,  if  I  loved  him,  or 
any  other  man,  it  wouldn't  make  the  slightest  dif 
ference  with  me,  what  his  parents  turned  out  to  be, 
or  whether  he  were  legitimate  or  illegitimate,  a 


A  CANTANKEROUS  OLD  LADY  191 

prince  or  a  pauper;  if  I  loved  him,  I  say.  But 
enough  of  this,  one  thing  I  want  you  to  understand 
from  now  on;  I  positively  insist  that  upon  the  sub 
ject  of  love  and  matrimony  you  never  speak  to  me 
again.  On  this  condition  only  can  we  remain 
together.  Do  you  comprehend  ?" 

Mrs.  Hancock  did.  When  Rhea  was  emphatic, 
her  aunt  knew  what  it  meant;  besides  Mrs.  Han 
cock  was  a  financial  dependent;  so  she  closed  her 
lips  as  you  shut  a  desk,  and  said  nothing;  her  hot 
temper,  however  was  boiling. 

"  Now  about  Cairo,  Auntie,  you  can  do  as  you 
please,  stay  or  go.  I  can  get  along  either  way." 

Mrs.  Hancock  was  dangerously  mum,  and  Rhea, 
discovering  that  there  was  no  answer  forthcoming, 
arose  and  left  the  room.  She  had  scarcely  gone, 
when  the  Misses  Richards  slipped  in;  they  had 
heard  every  word.  As  eavesdroppers  they  could 
nowhere  be  excelled.  Their  zest  in  life  lay  in  the 
world's  contentions.  They,  themselves,  never 
quarreled,  not  even  with  each  other.  They  were 
like  a  large  proportion  of  the  saints,  that  sin  by 
proxy.  They  enjoyed  evil  in  its  reflex,  and  licked 
the  platter  after  the  gravy  was  gone.  No  sooner 
had  they  arrived  and  properly  seated  themselves 
than  Mrs.  Hancock  burst  out. 

"  She's  going  to  stay,  and  I  can't  help  myself." 

''How long,"  said  Bess,  in  apparent  surprise. 

"  Forever,  I  hope;  then,  perhaps,  she'll  get 
enough  of  it." 


192  EL  RESHID 

"  How  sad!"  said  the  Misses  Richards,  in  one 
voice. 

"  It's  more  than  sad;  it's  scandalous;  the  whole 
town  will  be  talking  if  she  don't  look  out.  What's 
that  Aleppo  to  her,  that  she  has  to  be  dangling 
around  as  though  she  were  married  to  him." 

"Perhaps  she's  keeping  a  secret,"  said  Miss 
Richards,  "could't  you  discover?  Maybe  Bess 
could  find  it  out." 

"  Rhea  can't  stand  a  spy;  neither  can  I,"  turn 
ing  on  them;  but  the  ancient  ladies  were  altogether 
impervious  to  her  mysterious  hints,  and  answered 
again  in  an  angelic  voice, 

"Too  bad!" 

Mrs.  Hancock  was  no  fool,  and  was  Yankee 
enough  to  know  on  which  side  her  bread  was  but 
tered;  so  she  swallowed  her  wrath  and  declared  to 
the  Misses  Richards  that  they  need  not  alter  their 
plans  in  the  least  on  her  account;  that  she  expected 
to  become  a  martyr;  it  had  always  been  her  fate, 
and  always  would  be. 

"  I  don't  hope  to  get  my  reward  here,  but  on  the 
other  side;  if  it  wasn't  for  the  Rev.  Hitchock  I 
should  pray  the  Lord  to  take  me  now,  but  I  do 
want  to  sit  under  the  ministrations  of  my  dear 
pastor  once  again.  I  was  born  to  suffering,  as  the 
sparks  fly  upward;  only  a  few  are  so  privileged." 

"Too  bad!  "  again  responded  the  female  doves. 

"  Rhea's  a  black  sheep,"  her  venom  getting  the 
better  once  more.  "  From  the  time  she  was  born 


A   CANTANKEROUS   OLD   LADY  193 

she  would  have  none  of  the  Rev.  Hitchcock,  nor 
sit  under  the  droppings  of  the  sanctuary.  In  my 
opinion  she's  afraid  of  hell.  She  would  run  when 
the  minister  came,  though  scarcely  more  than  a 
baby,  and  hide  her  head  in  the  bed-clothes.  If  we 
dragged  her  out  she  would  shut  her  eyes  and 
wouldn't  look  at  him." 

',  How  sad!" 

(<  It  grew  worse  as  she  grew  older,  and  though  I 
must  say  she  wasn't  a  liar,  nor  a  thief,  nor  a  mur 
derer,  she  persisted  in  thinking  for  herself,  in  the 
face  of  revelation,  and  I  felt  sometimes  that  the 
burden  was  more  than  I  could  bear." 

Mrs.  Hancock  wept  angry  and  uncharitable  tears, 
and  the  Misses  Richards,  wiped  them  away. 

"  And  now," — the  irate  woman  was  about  to 
make  an  awful  revelation — "she  is  secretly  loving 
an  idol- worshipper. 

"  How  dreadful !  "  The  ancient  sisters  positively 
shuddered. 

"  I  am  positive  I  am  right:  She's  ashamed  of  it, 
or  she'd  tell;  she  wants  to  stay  here  because  she's 
stuck  on  Isis^and  Osiris.  I  know  it,  as  sure  as  I  am 
born;  it's  not  Mohammedism  she  cares  about,  it's 
the  original.  She  has  a  half  a  dozen  little  sinful 
idols  more  or  less,  on  her  dressing  table,  and  in  my 
opinion  she  prays  to  the  whole  lot." 

"Oh!     Oh!" 

"  Yes  it  is,  Oh!  Oh!  What  would  my  poor, 
dear  sister  say,  if  she  could  look  out  of  heaven  at 


194  EL  RESHID 

all  this  wickedness.  She's  that  fixed  that  I've  no 
hope  of  turning  her."  Here  the  Misses  Richards 
drew  near  and  adjusted  their  eye-glasses.  "  She's 
a  rank  heathen;  that's  why  I  call  her  a  black  sheep. 
'Tisn't  Aleppo,  so  much,  though  he's  at  the  bot 
tom  of  some  of  it;  it's  innate;  and  all  she  needed 
was  this  country  and  these  lying  Arabs  to  bring  it 
out.  I  believe  she's  thinking  of  entering  an 
order." 

"  What?  "     The  two  sisters  drew  very  near. 

"She  used  to  get  hold  of  books,  at  Sandwich, 
that  made  my  eyes  ache,  about  mysteries,  and  a  lot 
more  ungodly  stuff.  I  burned  up  two  or  three  of 
them,  and  she  never  knew  where  they  went  to." 

"She  must  be  a  crank,"  said  Bess,  speaking  for 
the  first  time  to  some  effect. 

"  Pshaw  !  you  put  it  too  mildly;  she's  a  lost 
soul,  and  it's  my  mission  to  save  her." 

Mrs.  Hancock  shed  a  few  more  tears,  and  the 
Misses  Richards  again  dried  her  eyes. 

"  Her  mother  was  only  a  half  sister  of  mine,  and 
not  a  bit  like  me.  If  I  had  had  my  way,  Rhea 
would  never  have  been  born." 

"  Is  there  no  hope?  "  asked  the  curious  Bess. 

"  Not  the  slightest,  unless  I  get  the  power  to 
work  miracles.  I  don't  despair,  though;  for  what 
would  I  be  ordained  to  look  after  her  for,  if  'twasn't 
for  her  good;  never  mind  about  me,  my  sufferings 
are  nothing,  compared  with  the  awful  fate  ahead  of 
her." 


SALLUS  195 

Here  the  door  opened  and  the  beautiful  sinner 
entered;  she  took  in  the  whole  situation,  smiled 
beamingly,  and  passed  out,  closing  the  door  as 
softly  as  though  it  were  the  entrance  to  a  minister's 
study,  or  the  class-room  of  a  New  England  Church. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SALIAJS. 

As  we  have  said,  Sallus  discarded  detectives,  and 
hunted  for  Aleppo  alone.  Since  his  vision  of 
Issachar,  he  had  spent  much  time  around  the  shop 
where  the  Jew  had  vanished,  in  a  vain  hope  that  he 
might  see  him  again.  Neither  he  nor  Regan  had 
veered  from  the  idea  that  Issachar  was  at  the 
bottom  of  Aleppo's  disappearance;  and  the  fact 
that  Sallus  had  seen  him  in  Cairo,  when  he  was 
supposed  to  be  in  Venice,  confirmed  them  in  their 
former  conclusion. 

"I'm  working  along  the  line  of  the  smallest 
evil,"  said  Regan,  in  a  cheerful  pessimistic  drawl; 
"  men  talk  about  choosing  the  least  of  two  evils ; 
it  seems  to  me  that  there  are  always  about  forty 
to  pick  from.  I  never  was  reduced  to  two 
evils  yet;  I  see  the  sense  however,  of  grabbing  the 
littlest  one  in  the  pile.  They  're  heaped  up  pretty 
high  around  us  now,  that's  a  fact,  and  the  least  evil 
just  at  present  is  that  Jew;  without  him  we'd  be 
nowhere.  If  ever  a  man  vanished,  Aleppo  did; 


196  EL  RESHID 

and  if  it  wasn't  for  that  cursed  black  clue  of  an 
Issachar,  I  should  think  he'd  been  translated  or 
confiscated  by  an  ancient.  As  it  is,  I  feel  that  he's 
alive;  mark  my  words,  that  son  of  L,eah  is  after 
money,  and  whoever  owns  Aleppo  will  have  to  buy 
him,  see? 

"  I've  a  notion,"  answered  Sallus,  "  to  take  up 
my  quarters  down  near  that  shop;  where  the  devil 
was  once,  he's  likely  to  go  again." 

"  That's  not  a  bad  idea,"  answered  Regan,  "you 
don't  sleep  as  it  is,  and  you  might  as  well  live  in 
the  street  as  anywhere  else." 

It  was  done.  Sallus  managed  to  wedge  himself 
into  a  small  hired  apartment,  not  over  clean,  in  the 
thickest  of  Cairo  where  he  had  a  window-eye  that 
stared  down  at  the  shop  night  and  day. 

One  morning,  very  early,  he  had  come  in  from  a 
night's  work,  as  he  called  his  still  hunt  for  Aleppo 
and  was  looking  up  the  half  deserted  street.  It  was 
scarcely  four  o'clock,  and  a  dim  smoke  lay  over 
everything.  Suddenly  there  appeared  a  figure 
looming,  white,  out  of  the  gray  haze,  which  Sallus 
stared  at  with  the  glare  of  a  crouching  cat.  It 
was  Issachar — the  hooded  head,  the  immaculate 
robe,  the  claw-like  hands  and  the  smile.  Beside 
him  was  a  young  girl,  somewhat  disheveled  in 
appearance,  as  though  she  had  come  hurriedly  from 
her  sleeping  apartments,  half  dressed.  She  was 
expostulating  with  the  Jew,  who  answered  her  with 
naught  save  smiles — smiles.  Even  in  the  dim  gray 


SALLUS  197 

of  the  morning  Sallus  could  see  those  gleaming  teeth 
and  scintillating  eyes.  The  girl  pleaded  with  the 
Jew  as  though  her  life  were  at  stake,  but  he  shook 
his  head  and  smiled  again;  then  waving  his  hand 
imperiously,  turned  and  vanished  through  the  door 
of  the  shop. 

Sallus  waited  no  longer,  but  throwing  on  a  long 
cloak  which  effectively  concealed  his  figure,  and 
drawing  a  slouch  hat  over  his  eyes,  he  hurried  into 
the  street,  where  the  disheveled  young  lady  stood, 
looking  at  him  in  a  bewildered  way  as  he  approached 
her.  She  was  evidently  not  an  oriental  woman, 
for  her  hair  was  fluffy  brown,  though  her  eyes  were 
large,  dark  and  full  of  sentiment  which  had  culmin 
ated  in  tears.  In  spite  of  her  hastily  donned  attire 
she  was  very  pretty  and  singularly  pathetic. 

"  Pardon,"  said  Sallus,  stepping  close  to  her  and 
speaking  in  a  low  tone,  "but  may  I  have  a  word 
with  you — it  is  on  business — very  important." 

She  scanned  him  for  an  instant,  gazed  all  around 
her  in  a  half  frightened  way,  and  then  stepping 
close  to  him  said, 

"Yes." 

"  That  man  whom  I  saw  with  you  just  now— will 
you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  him  ?  " 

She  looked  startled,  but  whispered. 

"  Come  ;  "  leading  Sallus  into  a  side  street,  "walk 
with  me  a  pace  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I  know." 
Then  turning  her  great  dark  eyes  on  him,  swimming 


198  EL  RESHID 

with  tears,  she  exclaimed,  "  For  the  sake  of  Allah 
will  you  help  me  ?  " 

"You!  yes." — every  drop  of  his  chivalrous, 
American  blood  boiling,  "  what  is  it?  " 

She  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  with  her 
beautiful  bare  hands,  and  poured  out  the  story  of 
her  woe  into  his  shocked  ears  so  rapidly  and  with 
so  many  pauses  and  breaks,  that  he  could  scarcely 
catch  its  meaning;  she  spoke  in  French. 

"I've  lived  with  him  always — that  man  you  saw, 
since  I  was  born  ;  but  he's  not  my  father — nor 
relation.  I  am  stolen;  my  mother  was  stolen 
before  me.  Oh!' ' — here  she  broke  down  completely. 
"I  have  told  lots  of  people,  but  no  one  believes." 

"  What  do  they  think,"  said  Sallus,  his  voice 
choking  with  anger  at  Issachar. 

"  That  he  is  my  uncle;  that's  what  he  tells  every 
body — his  sister's  child  by  a  French  father,  and 
they  believe." 

"  But  you — he  tells  you  differently?  " 

"The  old  nurse  did,  who  took  care  of  me;  and 
when  I  accused  him,  he  did  not  deny.  I  begged 
him  this  morning — I'm  always  pleading  with  him 
to  take  me  back  to  Europe — I  want  to  escape.  I 
was  in  Venice  with  him  last  year,  but  he  suddenly 
brought  me  here  again." 

"  It  was  getting  lighter  and  Sallus  looked  up  and 
down  the  street  anxiously. 

' '  Can  you  come  to  my  room — will  you  be 
missed  ?  " 


SALLUS  199 

"  Who  should  miss  me,"  she  said,  her  lips 
curling.  Even  Issachar  doesn't  care  now."  Then 
she  looked  the  young  man  over  with  a  quick  glance. 
"  Yes  I  will  come." 

He  hurried  along  a  little  ahead;  she  following, 
even  into  the  bedroom  of  this  stranger.  In  the 
eyes  of  the  world  this  would  seem  scandalous;  but 
theie  are  evils  and  evils,  and  this,  at  the  time, 
appeared  to  be  the  least. 

"Now,"  said  Sallus,  handing  her  a  chair,  "  you 
have  begun  by  trusting  me;  don't  worry,  I  shall 
never  betray  your  confidence.  I  should  not  have 
brought  you  here,  but  time  is  precious  ;  we  could 
not  talk  safely  in  the  street — no  harm  can  come  of 
it." 

The  girl  looked  a  little  startled  and  dropped  her 
head. 

"Tell  me, "went  on  Sallus;  assuming  a  very 
business  like  air  and  drawing  a  chair  near  her,  "all 
you  know  of  Issachar  ;  and  I  will  then  state  to  you 
the  reason  why  I  desire  this  information. 

"  I  don't  know  much  ;  "  she  said,  still  keeping 
her  eyelids  down.  "  He  kidnapped  my  mother  a 
few  months  before  I  was  born.  She  was  a  wealthy 
French  lady.  He  strove  to  negotiate  with  her  family 
for  a  large  sum  of  money.  My  father  was  dead, 
and  he  took  my  mother  by  some  means  from  my 
father's  grave,  when  she  was  decorating  it  with 
flowers.  He  brought  her  here  and  kept  her  on  the 
desert,  where  I  was  born,  and  she  died.  This 


200  EL  RESHID 

upset  his  plans ;  her  life  had  money  value,  or 
something  else,  I  don't  know  what,  but  mine 
doesn't  seem  to  have  any.  He  has  been  trying  for 
seventeen  years,  for  that  is  my  age,  to  negotiate 
for  me,  but  my  relatives  have  lost  interest,  and  I 
am  of  no  account.  Still  he  will  not  let  me  go  ;  I 
shall  always  be  a  prisoner,  Oh  !  " — as  she  broke 
into  sobs. 

Sallus  was  intensely  moved,  but  he  controlled 
himself ;  it  was  no  place  to  comfort  her  here. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  all  these  seventeen 
years  ?  "  he  asked  excitedly. 

"  I  had  a  governess  until  last  year;  then  Issachar 
sent  her  away.  I  think  he  is  tired  of  me.  He  had 
hoped  my  relatives  would  come  to  terms,  so  he 
educated  me  a  little  and  all  that,  but  he  finds  they 
won't;  it  was  my  mother  they  wanted,  not  me. 
Besides,  I  believe  f he  has  some  new  scheme  on 
hand." 

Sallus  sprang  to  his  feet — "  Tell  me  quick,  what 
is  it  ?  "  The  girl  looked  startled. 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  it's  anything;  but  he  brought 
me  suddenly  to  Cairo  and  one  day  I  saw  a  young 
man  ' ' — the  beads  of  sweat  started  on  Sallus' 
brow — 

"  Yes  ! — yes  ! — when?  where  ?  " 

"  In  a  room  of  our  house." 

' '  Where  is  your  house  ?  ' ' 

"  Over  the  shop." 

"  How  did  he  look— quick  !  " 


SALLUS  201 

The  girl  seemed  not  to  understand  this  anxiety, 
and  stared  in  amazement  at  Sallus. 

' '  Oh,  speak  !  ' '  said  Sallus — he  was  pacing 
rapidly. 

"He  was  dark,  very;  .with  beautiful  eyes.  He 
seemed  to  be  sick;  he  staid  but  a  short  time,  at  the 
house,  and  was  taken  away." 

' '  Taken  away  !   Who  took  him  ?  " 

"Some  Arabs — Issachar's  slaves." 

"Slaves  !" 

"  Yes,  the  same  as  slaves." 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  have  you  the  least  idea  where 
they  have  taken  him?  " 

He  had  come  very  near  to  the  girl  and  pierced 
her  eyes  with  his  own. 

"No,"  she  said  shrinking,  ''my  mother  was 
taken  to  the  desert,  and  died  there;  yes,  and  I  was 
born  there." 

She  wondered  why  he  had  forgotten  her  case  so 
quickly  and  was  thinking  only  of  the  dark  young 
man. 

"  Forgive  me;  but  I  have  been  searching  for  my 
brother  for  weeks  " — he  still  called  Aleppo  his 
brother.  "  I'm  crazy  about  him.  I  have  suspected 
.the  Jew;  now  I  am  certain.  Where  is  Issachar 
this  minute,  can  you  tell  me?  " 

"  Gone  away  ;  far,  far,  while  we  have  been  talk 
ing;  he  goes  and  comes,  no  one  knows  where." 

Sallus'  conscience  smote  him;  ought  he  not  to 


202  EL  RESHID 

have  followed  Issachar;  he  feared  that  he  had  made 
a  great  mistake — "  When  will  he  come  back?  " 

"I  con't  know.  I  hope  never,"  said  the  girl 
bitterly,  rising  at  the  same  time. 

Sallus  was  wild;  what  could  he  do?  He  had  let 
Issachar  slip,  and  had  this  poor  child  on  his  hands 
whose  sorrows  appealed  to  his  tender  heart.  But 
Aleppo  was  first  and  above  all — even  this  pretty 
girl  must  stand  aside.  He  walked  back  and  forth 
a  few  times,  then  stood  between  her  and  the  door. 

"  I  have  made  a  mistake;  I  should  have  followed 
the  Jew.  My  brother  is  all  the  world  to  me.  Now 
listen,  my  poor  girl," — he  could  scarcely  think  of 
her  as  other  than  a  child — <l  I  swear  to  you  that 
your  cause  shall  be  mine  also.  I'm  going  to  find 
that  Jew  or  die.  He  has  kidnapped  my  brother  as 
he  did  your  mother.  We  must  work  together — you 
and  I.  I  shall  live  in  this  room,  you  must  watch, 
and  spy,  and  connive,  and  cheat,  and  lie  and  do 
everything  wicked  to  learn  the  facts.  Get  on  the 
track  of  Issachar  as  you  prize  your  liberty,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"  But  he  is  so  slimy,"  said  the  girl,  shivering  ; 
he  is  like  a  snake." 

"Has  he  abused  you,  poor  child;"  his  eyes 
snapping. 

' '  No,  not  that,  he  has  been  very  good  ;  till  last 
year  I  was  kept  like  a  princess.  Now  he  neglects 
me,  he  has  sent  away  the  governess,  only  old  Spino, 
the  nurse,  remains;  and  she  hates  him  venomously. 


SAI^US  203 

I'm  afraid  if  he  gives  up  all  hopes  of  obtaining  a 
ransom  for  me  that  he  will  sell  me  to  a  hareem — 
Oh!"— 

"  Never,"  said  Sallus,  biting  off  an  oath  before  it 
was  out.     "  And  this  Spino, — is  she  faithful  ?  " 

"True  as  steel;  an  Arab — a  servant  of  Allah." 

"  Ah  !  and  you, — your  name?  " 

"Cicily." 

"  Cicily  !     What  a  strange  name." 

"Yes,  Cicily." 

' '  How  did  the  Arab  woman  know  your  history  ?' ' 

"  From  her  husband,  who  helped  to  kidnap  my 
mother." 

"  And  your  governess — did  she  understand?  " 

"  She  was  indifferent,  utterly;  she  was  well  paid 
to  keep  still,  and  she  was  very  wise." 

The  sun  was  now  up,  and  flashed  into  Sallus' 
bare  room,  all  over  the  girl  who  stood  in  its  full 
glow.  Then  it  was  that  Sallus  saw  how  dazzling 
she  was.  Her  dress  but  partly  fastened  displayed 
her  beautiful,  young  neck,  daringly.  The  color 
had  come  to  her  cheeks  ;  and  the  disheveled  hair, 
"every  which  way,"  enhanced  with  its  soft,  yellow 
tint,  the  startling  splendor  of  her  eyes.  She  was 
in  a  state  of  intense  excitement,  her  bosom  rose  and 
fell  and  she  now  and  then  clasped  her  hands  as  if  in 
prayer,  raising  her  great  eyes,  full  of  ecstasy  one 
moment  to  Sallus,  the  next,  dropping  the  lids,  as 
though  half-frightened  at  being  with  him  there, 
alone. 


20 1  EL  RESHID 

"You  must  go  now,"  said  Sallus  decidedly, 
turning  his  eyes  away;  "but  can  I  not  visit  you; 
Spino  will  be  good,  and  understand;  tell  her  all  the 
moment  you  return;  make  an  ally  of  her  at  once. 
This  evening  I  will  come." 

For  the  first  time  Cicily  smiled.  It  was  a 
dangerous  thing  to  do,  but  the  girl's  apparent  inno 
cence  was  more  of  a  protection  than  all  the  guardian 
angels  of  heaven  above.  Sallus  opened  the  door 
for  her  as  though  she  were  a  queen,  and  Cicily 
glided  out  with  a  swift,  serpentine  movement,  more 
oriental  than  otherwise,  and  wonderfully  sugges 
tive  to  him  of  Constantinople  and  former  days. 

Had  he  been  deceived,  or  was  she  what  she  claimed 
to  be;  she  had  stated  that  no  one  believed  her.  How 
intoxicating  she  was  !  How  beautiful !  Yes,  there 
could  be  no  mistake,  unless  Issachar  himself  were 
using  her  as  a  decoy  to  trap  him  also.  He  had  failed 
to  read  her  ;  she  was  too  bliudingly  beautiful,  too 
seductively  sad.  Through  her  he  would  either  find 
Aleppo  or  walk  into  a  trap.  As  he  grew  cool- 
headed  and  more  sober,  he  realized  how  either 
might  be  true. 

Issachar  well  knew  that  both  he  and  Regan  were 
making  search.  He  had  probably  discovered 
Sallus'  proximity  to  his  own  headquarters;  what 
was  to  hinder  him  from  using  this  young  girl  with 
her  pathetic  story  as  a  means  to  capture  him  also. 
On  the  contrary,  there  were  some  things  about 
Cicily  that  spoke  to  his  very  soul.  But  Catus ! 


SALLUS  205 

who  could  tell  whether  Catus  connived  with 
Issachar, — his  head  ached;  he  had  been  up  all 
night ;  his  adventure  of  the  morning  was  abnor 
mally  exciting.  He  was  thrilled  with  a  pair  of 
beautiful  eyes ;  altogether,  he  was  in  a  bad  way. 
The  sun  was  pouring  into  the  room,  and  the  flies 
were  a  million.  Coffee!  Ah  !  Egyptian  coffee  ! — Ah  ! 
Shepherd's  ! — Regan  !  He  got  out  of  that  quarter 
of  Cairo  as  quickly  as  he  could  go,  and  went  for  his 
breakfast  at  a  haunt  of  his  own;  then  hunted  up 
Regan,  whom  he  found  in  bed  at  Shepherd's. 

"  'Pon  my  word  this  is  out  of  order,"  said  the 
philosopher,  sitting  up  and  yawning;  "  never  knew 
you  to  make  such  a  break  as  this;  what's  the 
matter?" 

Sallus  took  Regan  by  the  two  hands,  dragged 
him  out  of  bed  and  jumped  in. 

"  It's  my  turn  now,"  said  he,  "let  me  doze  off 
for  an  hour,  and  then  I'll  tell  you — am  dead  tired." 

He  turned  over  with  the  last  word,  and  nothing 
more  was  heard  of  him  till  noon.  When  that  hour 
arrived,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  met  those  of 
Regan  who  sat  by  the  window  with  his  feet  on  the 
mantel. 

' '  Have  I  slept  an  hour  ? ' ' 

"Several." 

Sallus  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 

"  The  problem  gets  stickier  every  minute  ;  this 
morning  I  saw  Issachar." 


20"  EL  RESHID 

"  You  did  !  "  said  Regan,  opening  the  door  to  let 
in  some  breakfast. 

"And  the  prettiest  girl  on  earth" — Regan 
whistled  softly.  Sallus,  between  munching  his  rolls 
and  sipping  his  coffee,  told  Regan  everything,  even 
to  his  fascination  and  fear  of  Cicily. 

Regan  sat  in  a  brown  study  for  a  good  ten 
minutes,  then  began — 

"  It  amounts  to  just  this;  we've  got  down  to  one 
evil — that's  Issachar,  he's  the  biggest  and  the 
littlest.  If  it's  a  trap,  you  may  be  caught;  but  I 
am  afraid  you'll  have  to  try  it,  or  let  L,ep  slip 
altogether.  Of  course  you  know,  I'll  be  on  the 
watch  with  a  strong  guard;  may  be  'taint  a  trap; 
perhaps  the  girl  is  all  right,  but  I'm  scared." 

"Can't  help  it,"  said  Sallus,  getting  out  of  bed 
in  a  hurry.  I  am  not  the  coward  to  let  Aleppo  go 
that  way,  trap  or  no  trap  ;  besides  that's  the 
prettiest  girl  I've  ever  seen. 

"She's  a  trap  anyhow;  you're  bound  to  be 
caught  however  you  fix  it.  Count  on  me  Sal, 
first,  last  and  all  the  time,  from  now  to  the  day  of 
judgment." 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
MYSTERY. 

Regan  found  Mrs.  Hancock  alone  in  the  hotel 
parlor  on  the  day  of  Sallus'  escapade  with  Cicily, 
and  that  fair  daughter  of  New  England  poured  all 


MYSTERY  207 

her  venom  upon  his  head  at  once;  she  scolded, 
threatened  and  blamed  Rhea,  without  scruple,  for 
keeping  her  in  Cairo. 

"Why  don't  you  go,"  said  Regan,  "  I'm  sure 
you're  of  age,  and  can  do  as  you  like.  Rhea  has 
plenty  of  friends  and  will  be  perfectly  safe  without 
you." 

"I'm  sworn  to  stay  by  that  girl  till  she  dies  or 
gets  married,  and  I'm  going  to,  in  spite  of  you  or 
anybody." 

"Married!"  said  Regan,  thrusting  his  hands 
into  his  pockets;  I  wonder  any  decent  girl  dares  to 
try  it,  in  these  days  of  pulpit  oratory  and  priestly 
advice." 

' '  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? ' '  shrieked  Mrs. 
Hancock. 

"  Why,  it  was  just  before  I  left  the  States,  that 
I  strolled  into  an  influential  church  in  New  York, 
and  the  parson  was  talking  on  matrimony,  giving 
advice  to  his  young  flock,  and  all  that,  and  what  do 
you  suppose  he  said  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  can't  tell,"  snappishly. 

"  He  told  them  the  same  thing  I've  read  a  hun 
dred  times,  or  more,  and  always  swore  at;  "  Dearly 
beloved,"  he  drawled,  "  marriage,  to  a  man  is  but 
an  incident,  to  a  woman,  'tis  her  whole  life  !"  And 
he  thought  he  had  said  a  fine  thing.  I  should  have 
sworn  at  him.  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  usher  !  Such 
beastly  stuff  to  teach  young  women.  So  man  goes 
into  this  church-ordained  business  of  marriage 


208  EL  RESHID 

as  a  sort  of  side  issue,  or  by-play,  exactly  like  a 
Mormon,  if  I  know  myself;  and  woman,  beautiful 
woman,  talented,  educated  woman,  is  ordered  by 
these  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  to  give  her  whole 
life,  and  that  in  free  America,  where  justice  is  sup 
posed  to  be  done.  What's  the  man  going  to  do 
after  the  incident  is  over,  I'd  like  to  know;  seek 
another  and  another,  incident  piled  on  incident, 
event  on  event ;  and  she  was  requested  by  that 
same  gent  in  the  pulpit  to  solace  herself  with 
memory — the  recollection  of  the  incident,  I  suppose 
— the  incident!!  I  got  the  hymn  book  ready  to 
throw  at  his  head,  when  I  caught  the  eye  of  the 
usher,  and  stopped  short." 

"  I  wish  that  usher  had  caught  you  by  the  nape 
of  the  neck  and  thrust  you  out  of  God's  house,  into 
the  street;  you  were  blaspheming  divine  truth,  and 
putting  out  was  too  good  for  you." 

"Maybe,  but  I  got  after  that  parson  all  the 
same." 

"You  did!" 

"  Yes,  I  did!  I  went  to  his  study  and  informed 
him  that  I  wanted  a  consultation  about  a  lost  soul; 
he  rubbed  his  hands  with  invisible  soap,  and  anx 
iously  inquired  if  it  were  I  that  were  lost.  I  tried 
to  catch  his  eyes,  but  they  shifted  like  moonbeams, 
and  I  gently  instructed  him  that  it  was  he  that 
couldn't  be  found." 

"  What  did  he  do,"  said  Mrs.  Hancock,  in  an 
awed  whisper. 


MYSTERY  209 

"He  just  put  a  chair  between  us  and  pointed  to 
the  door  with  the  majesty  of  a  justice  of  the  peace; 
he  was  choking  so  that  he  couldn't  speak;  but  I 
smiled  and  coughed,  and  gaped,  and  looked  at  my 
watch,  and  tied  one  shoe,  and  dusted. off  my  sleeve, 
and  wiped  my  eye-glass,  but  he  kept  "his  index 
finger  straight  out,  till  he  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  yogi  practitioner.  'Not  so  fast,'  said  I, 
'  you're  lost,  because  you  taught  those  lambs  in 
your  flock  a  cursed  lie ' — he  still  pointed,  and  I 
yawned  again,  and  tied  the  other  shoe — '  you 
advised  those  young  women  to  take  up  with  men 
who  treat  marriage  as  an  incident.  I'd  bet  on  you 
as  against  old  Brighatn,  every  time.  It's  another 
form  of  hareem  you're  advocating,  or  my  name's  not 
Regan.'  Then  I  bowed  very  low,  and  backed  out, 
while  that  parson  was  still  pointing." 

"You  are  the  most  disrespectful  man  on  God's 
footstool;  you  haven't  the  least  reverence  for  the 
church  nor  the  minister;  you'll  have  to  answer  for 
this  some  day." 

"  As  for  reverence,  I  guess  I  can  bestow  it,  where 
it  belongs.  My  father  was  a  respected  parson  and 
text  expounder,  and  if  I  do  say  it,  who  shouldn't — 
there  was  never  a  better  man.  He  and  I  didn't 
agree  on  all  points;  we  quarreled  over  the  Bible, 
that's  what  parted  us — the  Bible;  but  for  all  that, 
I'd  like  to  find  one  who  could  beat  him.  When 
he  got  to  singing  those  psalms  and  hymns  the  whole 
congregation  roared,  their  voices  blending  into  one 


210  EL,  RESHID 

monotonous  thunder  peal,  that  was  just  about  the 
grandest  thing  that  ever  struck  a  fellow's  ear.  Yes 
ma'am,  Mrs.  Hancock,  that  father  of  mine  was 
worthy  of  reverence,  if  ever  a  man  on  earth  was, 
and  whether  he  was  right  or  wrong,  he  had  a  soul 
as  white  as  swan's  down." 

"  You  don't  take  after  him!  "  spitefully. 

"  Couldn't  preach  a  sermon  to  save  my  life, "  said 
Regan,  "  nor  speak  in  meeting  either — suppose  you 
do,  though  ?" 

At  this  point  Sallus  entered  and  called  Regan 
out.  Mrs.  Hancock  was  left  alone  with  her  cogi 
tations,  which  were  more  or  less  of  a  tumultuous 
kind. 

"I'm  going,  now,  said  Sallus,  ''to  keep  my 
appointment  with  Cicily;  if  it's  a  trap  I  may  not 
come  back." 

"  'Twont  be  sprung  yet,  trap  or  no  trap.  You're 
safe  enough  for  a  time;  will  send  a  detective  after 
you  though,  so  don't  fret.  Get  on  the  good  side  of 
Spino,  that's  the  first  thing — Spino." 

After  Sallus  had  gone,  Regan  sought  Catus;  these 
two  were  great  chums.  To-night,  however,  Regan 
proposed  to  spy  on  him  a  little,  and  get  him,  if 
possible  to  commit  himself  in  regard  to  Aleppo. 

"Mr.  Catus,"  said  Regan,  stretching  his  long 
legs  on  a  stool  and  sipping  his  coffee,  "  have  you 
ever  met  a  particular  Jew,  called  Jacob  Issachar  ?  " 

His  host  reflected  a  moment,  and  said,  dreamily, 
"The  name  is  familiar;  how  does  he  look  ? ' ' 


MYSTERY  211 

"About  as  infernal  as  the  prince  of  darkness; 
that  is,  if  you  don't  happen  to  admire  his  style. 
He's  a  giant  in  size,  wears  a  woman's  dressing 
gown,  parts  his  hair  in  the  middle  and  allows  it  to 
stream  down  the  sides  of  his  face;  teeth  of  an  animal, 
swarthy  complexion,  and  four  or  five  thousand 
years  old." 

"Yes,  I  know  him,"  said  Catus  indifferently; 
"  he  looks  comparatively  young,  though,  but 
adopts  the  style  of  a  patriarch;  literal  descendant, 
I  presume — a  Syrian  Jew — eh?  " 

"  That's  he,  now  what  of  him?  " 

"Oh,  nothing  much;  makes  his  living  by  the 
black  art,  same  as  lots  of  orientals." 

"What's  the  black  art?" 

"  He  got  hold  of  a  few  secrets,  in  fact  they  had 
come  down  from  time  immemorial;  there's  money 
in  them,  any  amount;  that  Jew  knows  a  heap." 
And  Catus  lighted  up  and  settled  himself  in  his  fat 
chair. 

"Is  it  out  and  out  magic  or  a  fake ?  ' '  urged 
Regan  intensely  interested. 

"  That  depends  upon  what  you  mean  by  magic. 
Anyone  can  know  magic  who  acquires  certain  laws 
and  makes  use  of  them;  a  little  hypnotism,  a  good 
bit  of  human  nature,  a  subtle  logic,  immense  con 
centration,  knowledge  of  chemistry,  a  quick  eye, 
a  quicker  hand,  and  lo!  the  magician." 

"  Black  or  white  ?  "  said  Regan. 


212  EIv  RESHID 

"  Either;  power  is  power — used  for  good  or  evil, 
according  to  the  man." 

"  Now  you  talk  sense.  I  never  could  believe  in 
these  fakirs  who  get  something  out  of  nothing; 
they're  sharpers.  See?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Catus,  "  they  have  their  hands 
down  so  fine  they  can  pick  a  man's  pocket  right 
before  his  eyes,  and  he  never  knows  it.  They  have 
a  way,  too,  of  looking  at  you,  and  absorbing  your 
soul;  there's  no  mistake,  they're  great  men.  The 
fellow  who  would  be  an  expert  must  begin  before 
he  is  born.  The  way  they  can  concentrate  is 
beyond  telling;  patience  !  patience  is  no  word  for 
it,  they're  simply  sublime;  they  run  an  idea  to  the 
ground,  they  suck  their  subject  till  it's  like  a 
squeezed  lemon;  they  never  let  up  when  on  the 
trail,  no  matter  what  interferes;  they  follow  scent 
like  a  hound.  Obstacle!  They  climb  over  it  as 
they  would  a  mountain;  if  it  were  as  high  as 
Everest  it  would  make  no  difference;  they  would 
get  on  top  and  come  down  the  other  side,  or  die." 

"  Die  !     Do  they  die?" 

"  Yes,  after  a  fashion,  but  not  like  other  folks; 
they  go  into  a  hole,  as  a  frog  does,  and  exist 
without  eating  or  drinking  till  they're  made  over; 
it  is  a  sort  of  prolonged  fast,  accompanied  by 
stagnation  and  inertia." 

"  And  is  Issachar  that  kind  of  a  man  ?  " 

"Shouldn't  wonder." 

"  Would  he  kidnap  anybody,  do  you  suppose?  " 


MYSTERY  213 

"He  might,  if  there  were  money  back  of  it; 
there's  one  thing  they  can't  do." 

"What's  that?" 

"Transmute  base  metal  into  gold;  on  the 
contrary,  base  ideas  are  turned  to  filihy  lucre  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand." 

Now,  in  my  opinion,"  said  Regan,  mysteriously, 
and  drawing  closer  to  Catus,  "  Issachar  has  his 
clutches  on  Aleppo,  and  money  is  back  of  the 
whole  business." 

"  Ah,"  said  Catus,  puffing  at  his  cigar. 

"What  is  your  idea,"  said  Regan,  edging  still 
nearer. " 

"  How  do  you  know  there  is  any  money  behind 
Aleppo?" 

"  I  don't,  except  that  Issachar 's  after  him,  and 
what  on  earth  but  money  could  animate  the  legs  of 
that  Jew?"  "Tisn't  revenge,  nor  enmity,  for  the 
boy  had  never  seen  the  fellow  but  once,  since  he 
was  a  child.  No,  'tis  money,  sure." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  said 
Catus,  indifferently. 

"  Move  heaven  and  earth,  till  I  find  him.  Fight 
money  with  money,  what  else?  If  everything 
else  fails,  I'll  stake  my  egg-beater,  that  little  thing 
weighs  heavy  in  the  market — income  from  it  alone 
would  set  a  Jew  crazy:  then  there  are  several  other 
unmentionables.  Oh,  we've  got  him  in  the  long 
run,  but  first  I'm  going  to  try  for  him  in  another 


214  EL  RESHID 

way;  that  fellow's  committed  a  crime,  did  you 
know  it?" 

"  You  haven't  a  scintilla  of  proof;  you're  surmis 
ing  that  it's  Issachar  because  he  happened  to  call 
on  Aleppo  in  Venice;  the  young  man  was  afraid 
of  him,  etc.  Very  likely  you're  doing  a  great 
injustice." 

"May  I  ask  you  an  out  and  out  question ?" 

"I  don't  object." 

"Then  tell  me,  please,  why  you  are  so  utterly 
indifferent  about  the  disappearance  of  Aleppo 
Bracciolini;  you,  who  were  such  a  good  friend  to 
him  in  Italy,  and  such  an  excellent  correspondent 
afterwards,  you  puzzle  me." 

"  I  am  a  sort  of  conundrum,  everybody  thinks  so; 
well,  about  Aleppo,  what's  the  use,  the  inevitable 
is  the  inevitable.  If  he's  dead,  I  can't  bring  him 
to  life;  and  if  he's  hid  in  Cairo,  I  might  as  well 
save  my  energy  as  to  waste  it  hunting  here, 
'twould  be  of  no  use.  If  he's  spirited  out  of  the 
country,  how  on  earth  can  I  tell  whither.  No,  Mr. 
Regan,  'tis  the  law  of  cause  and  effect;  I  accept 
the  inevitable. 

"To  hell  with  your  fatalism!"  said  Regan, 
more  emphatic  than  polite.  Will  is  on  top  of  fate 
and  effect  and  everything,  if  you  did  but  know  it. 
Why,  man,  'tis  a  cause  itself;  it  always  was  and 
always  will  be;  it's  first  and  foremost.  How 
would  your  protoplasm  ever  sprawl  around  in  an 
Ameba  if  will  or  desire  wasn't  back  of  the  whole 


MYSTERY  215 

business.  You  can  change  an  effect  as  quick  as  a 
wink,  if  you  can  get  will  enough — that's  the  way 
the  world  is  run.  Will  is  sovereign,  or  there  never 
was  a  king  on  the  throne;  from  everlasting  to  ever 
lasting  you've  been  willing  something,  and  have 
got  it,  too,  in  the  long  run.  The  mills  of  the  gods 
grind  slow,  but  they  grind,  I  tell  you;  and  that 
god  in  you,  is  your  will." 

"  But  what  of  fatality,"  said  Catus,  not  moved 
an  iota  by  Regan's  effort,  at  the  same  time  yawn 
ing,  as  though  bored,  and  lighting  a  fresh  cigar, 
"what  of  fatality?  " 

' '  Oriental  fatalism  knocks  me  silly.  '  As  you 
sow,  so  shall  you  reap,'  but  you're  always  sowing, 
and  'tis  the  will  that's  the  sower,  or  my  name  isn't 
Patrick.  In  my  opinion,  this  excuse  of  fatalism  is 
only  a  blind  to  cover  something.  When  a  man 
is  up  to  mischief  he  talks  fatalism  from  morning  till 
night;  he's  revelling  in  evil,  and  excuses  himself 
for  wallowing,  because  of  his  Nemesis  called  Fate. 
No,  you're  on  the  wrong  track,  Mr.  Catus.  If  Fate 
is  after  Aleppo  Bracciolini,  I'll  get  after  Fate,  and 
we'll  see  see  whose  legs  are  the  longest.  If  you 
must  make  Fate  to  blame,  my  back  is  broad,  I  can 
stand  it,  far  I  am  that  very  gentleman — Fate,  him 
self." 

"  You,  Fate  !  " 

"  Yes,  I,  or  you,  or  anybody  that  gets  his  finger 
in  the  pie — the  Jew,  if  you'd  rather." 


216  EL  RKSHID 

"You're  a  slippery  one,"  said  Catus;  "  I  halt 
believe  you're  a  philosopher." 

"  Which  is  another  name  for  Yankee,"  putting 
his  feet  as  high  as  his  head  and  looking  longingly 
at  his  host's  cigar. 

It  was  no  use;  he  gained  nothing  from  "the 
riddle,"  for  that  gentleman  failed  to  commit  him 
self,  and  wending  his  way  back  to  the  hotel,  he 
inwardly  decided  that  he  had  found  a  match  for  his 
own  sharp  practice  in  Caesar  Catus,  of  ancient 
Rome. 

Catus  clapped  his  hands,  as  soon  as  Regan  had 
departed,  and  the  Arab  materialized  with  another 
letter  on  the  South  Sea  shell.  It  was  stamped  with 
the  symbol.  He  opened  it  forthwith.  These  were 
the  contents: 

"Caution!  Remember  that  there  are  tombs  all 
along  the  Nile,  in  the  mountain  range;  also,  that 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Cairo,  on 
the  desert,  is  an  oasis;  also,  Serapeum,  the  tombs 
of  the  sacred  bulls;  also,  that  the  sands  of  Libya 
retain  no  tracks;  also,  that  something  of  grave 
importance  has  occurred  in  Paris;  also,  that  upon 
one  man  alone  must  you  bring  yourself  to  bear. 

"  A  bove  majori  discit  arare  minor." 

Symbol. 

Catus  sat  in  deep  study  for  an  hour,  lighting  one 
cigar  after  another,  and  throwing  them  away. 
When  sure  that  he  had  deciphered  correctly,  he 


SPINO  217 

clapped  his  bands,  and  remarked  to  the  waiting 
Arab,  "  Have  my  traps  all  packed  to-night;  Heave 
Cairo  immediately." 

Bowing,  the  servant  vanished,  and  Catus,  going 
to  the  pile,  placed  the  latest  with  the  other  letters, 
and  sank  down  among  the  cushions  of  his  couch 
and  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
SPINO. 

Spino  was  the  strangest  old  hag  that  ever  wore 
shoe  leather;  if  she  had  any  shape  at  all,  it  was  so 
variable  that  she  was  never  twice  alike.  Sometimes 
she  was  tall  and  sometimes  short,  now  bent  almost 
double,  again  straight  as  a  barber's  pole.  One 
shoulder  was  higher  than  the  other,  one  day  the 
right  and  the  next  day  the  left.  Her  legs  and  arms 
differed  according  to  the  time  of  the  week,  and  her 
eyes  were  the  worst  match  on  record.  That  which 
grew  on  her  head,  which  people  called  hair,  was 
much  like  the  stub  of  an  old  clothes  brush,  uncer 
tain  as  to  color  and  changeable  as  to  length.  Her 
skin  of  the  hue  of  pale  molasses,  was  written  all 
over  with  a  net-work  of  hieroglyphics  which  the 
world  called  wrinkles,  but  which  the  wise  read  like 
the  pages  of  an  ancient  book.  She  had  not  a  tooth 
in  her  head  save  one  which  forced  her  mouth  open 
in  spite  of  herself,  betraying  a  deep  and  awful 


218  EL  RESHID 

cavern  behind  her  thin  lips,  from  which  came  a/ 
variety  of  sounds  from  the  profundo  of  a  guttural  to 
the  high  treble  of  a  screech.  Her  nose  was  a  bea'k, 
with  nostrils  that  betrayed  blood  of  race,  but 
whether  her  pedigree  were  black  or  white  no  one 
could  tell.  She  was  so  utterly  ugly  that  she  was 
not  ugly  at  all;  grotesque  she  might  be,  artistic 
surely,  but  hideous,  never.  Besides  she  was  inter 
esting  like  a  sixteenth  century  manuscript  or  a 
scroll  of  black  magic,  and  shrewd  and  keen  and 
sharp  and  wise,  with  no  touch  of  senility  anywhere, 
but  quicker,  brighter,  more  apt  than  the  young 
folks  of  her  time.  This  was  Spino,  the  constant 
companion  and  perpetual  foil  of  Cicily. 

When  Sallus  arrived,  according  to  appointment, 
at  the  house  of  Issachar  he  found  himself  in  a 
strange  place;  it  might  have  been  a  continuation  of 
the  shop  below  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  nothing 
was  sold  above  stairs.  The  rooms  were  in  irre 
deemable  disorder,  but  wonderfully  enticing  in  their 
chaotic  splendor.  If  Issachar  had  been  pitching 
things  right  and  left  at  the  heads  of  the  occupants 
they  would  have  assumed  about  the  position  that 
they  occupied  at  the  time  of  Sallus'  call.  Such 
beautiful  things  !  or  sins,  as  the  toothless  Spino 
called  them.  There  were  stuffs,  oriental  and 
occidental,  of  the  rarest  bronzes,  embroideries  and 
rugs,  curtains  and  hangings,  treated  with  as  little 
reverence  as  so  much  old  junk  and  so  many  rags. 
The  rooms  were  lighted  by  stuffy  candles  stuck  into 


SPINO  219 

the  most  elaborate  hammered  brass  sticks,  or  behind 
greasy  bits  of  glass  of  every  color,  that  flashed 
dimly  at  the  shadows,  where  the  curtains  hung  here 
and  there  without  object  or  purpose,  save  simply  to 
hang — shameless  exhibitions  of  their  own  embroi 
dered  splendor. 

There  was  but  one  homely  touch  to  the  place — a 
brass  tea-kettle  hung  over  an  alcohol  lamp  and  sang 
madly  while  it  sputtered  into  the  eyes  of  an  intru 
sive  bronze  dragon  that  had  the  curiosity  to  inves 
tigate. 

Spino  greeted  Sallus  with  a  cork-screw  bow 
which  made  her  ancient  skeleton  crack  from  head 
to  toe;  then  bustled  around  the  tea-kettle  like  a 
witch  with  a  caldron.  She  went  on  the  principle 
of  tea,  or  die.  She  looked  quite  scandalized  when 
Cicily  entered,  and  bowing  to  Sallus  took  her  old 
head  in  her  arms  and  laid  her  face  against  it  in  the 
most  loving  fashion,  saying,  "Granny,  this  is 
Sallus." 

Cicily  could  have  done  no  more  coquettish  a  thing, 
were  she  artful  or  artless,  and  about  which  of  the 
two  natures  that  young  lady  had,  Sallus  was  more 
puzzled  than  ever. 

To  lay  her  face  against  that  of  Granny  was  to 
enhance  her  beauty  a  thousand  fold — her  youth, 
her  charm.  The  force  of  contrast  threw  her  into 
a  halo  of  magical  splendor,  from  which  Sallus 
could  never  disentangle  her  in  the  years  to  come. 
She  was  dressed  like  a  tawdry  Oriental  princess 


220  EL,  RESHID 

who  had  had  no  new  clothes  for  a  year.  Her  gar 
ments  must  have  cost  a  pretty  sum,  but  were  shabby 
from  over  and  ill  usage;  still  they  gave  a  touch  of 
pathos  to  her  irresistible  beauty  which  Spino  was 
destined  to  foil.  She  was  a  conscious  or  unconscious 
coquette — an  artful  child  of  sin,  or  an  artless  angel. 
From  her  surroundings  and  manner  she  might  have 
been  either;  but  whichever  she  were  there  was  no 
mistake  about  one  thing;  she  was  fascinating — 
fascinating,  with  that  witching  glamor  of  the  flesh 
and  the  Orient,  that  made  Sallus  an  easy  prey.  He 
stood  in  awe  of  Rhea,  but  Cicily  was  a  warm 
blooded  creature  of  earth  ;  a  woman  of  dimpled 
arms  and  half-clad  bosom,  with  red  cheeks  and 
seductive  eyes. 

"Now  this  tea,"  said  Spino — she  began  her 
sentence  in  French,  but  Sallus  interrupted. 

"  Can  you  speak  no  other  tongue  than  that  ?  I 
can  make  it  out,  but  it's  mighty  hard." 

"Talk  English,"  said  Cicily  with  a  coaxing 
smile;  so  Spino  finished  up  in  English — "  this  tea 
is  good." 

"You  see,"  said  Cicilyin  a  whisper,  "she  speaks 
every  known  tongue  under  heaven;  she  is  as  wise 
as  Issachar. " 

"  Is  she  his  mother?  "  said  Sallus  awed. 

"No,  she  hates  him.  It  is  a  constant  battle 
between  them. " 

1 '  Why  does  the  Jew  keep  her  ?  ' ' 

"  He  likes  the  opposition,  I  guess." 


SPINO  221 

Spino  came  wriggling  toward  them  in  a  rotary 
motion,  and  presented  the  tea  which  was  strong  and 
bitter;  on  the  saucer  was  a  lump  of  sugar  wet  with 
brandy. 

"  We  drink  tea  constantly,"  said  Spino,  "  from 
morning  till  night." 

"And  always  with  brandy?  " 

"  Always  with  brandy." 

"I  can't  go  that,"  said  Sallus  throwing  the 
sugar  at  a  bedraggled  dog  that  was  curled  up  on  a 
Smyrna  rug.  He  was  a  toper,  no  doubt,  for  he 
nestled  up  to  Sallus  forthwith  and  begged  piteously 
with  his  eyes  for  more.  "  I've  given  it  up;  a  drop 
is  one  too  many  for  me,  for  it  leads  on  to  a  second 
and  then  a  third,  till  I  get  where  I  can't  stop." 

Cicily  looked  amazed.  "  In  that  you  are  like 
Issachar,  who  never  touches  a  drop.  He's  as 
abstemious  as  an  Arab,  but  it  doesn't  hurt  me;  and 
she  picked  up  the  sugar  and  placed  it  between  her 
red  lips;  those  lovely  lips  that  sugar  was  powerless 
to  sweeten,  those  luscious  lips  made  for  kisses — 
kisses.  So  thought  Sallus  and  how  could  he  help 
it.  He  was  young;  the  brandy  he  had  thrown  to 
the  dog,  but  her  lips  ! !— ah  !  ! 

"Madam,"  he  said,  turning  to  Granny,  "is 
Issachar  as  base  as  he  seems  ?  "  This  question  was 
put  to  open  the  subject. 

"  He  is  black,"  said  Spino,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Do  you  know  one  called  Caesar  Catus  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  croaked  Granny  like  a  mournful  raven. 


222  EL  RESHID 

"  Is  he  a  tool  of  the  Jew;  did  the  Jew  send  him 
to  Italy  to  study  with  one  Aleppo  Bracciolini,  years 
ago?" 

"  You  ask  too  much  ;  I  know  not  that.  Caesar 
spake  twice  with  me,  but  with  Issachar  I  know 
not." 

"  And  may  I  inquire  what  he  said  to  you." 

' '  It  was  about  the  young  man  whom  he  called 
Romanes,  who  staid  in  these  rooms  a  few  hours." 

"  What  did  he  say,"  said  Sallus  excitedly. 

"  He  inquired  if  he  were  better;  he  came  twice 
in  the  same  day  to  ask." 

"And  that  was  all." 

"  That  was  all." 

"  The  rascal  !"  said  Sallus,  biting  his  lips  to 
keep  from  giving  vent  to  a  volley  of  oaths.  '  'Would 
you  take  him  for  a  friend  of  Issachar,  or  an  enemy." 

"That  I  know  not." 

"Curse  him;  if  he  were  a  friend,  he  would  have 
captured  Aleppo  by  force  ;  he's  in  league  with 
Issachar,  and  Regan  and  I  are  in  his  clutches  like 
mice  in  the  claws  of  a  cat.  I  expect  he  has  been 
spying  on  Aleppo  for  years;  undoubtedly  he  went 
to  the  studio  to  be  near  him — curse  him  !  " 

"  It  would  not  have  been  easy  to  have  taken 
the  young  man  from  the  Jew  by  force,  even 
if  he  were  here  longer.  Issachar  has  ways  and 
means  of  hiding  one  instantly." — She  wriggled  like 
a  polly-wog  ;  her  English  was  beautiful  in  its 
dignity;  her  manner  supremely  grotesque. 


SPINO  223 

' '  What  was  the  matter  with  Aleppo;  can  you 
tell?" 

"  He  seemed  to  be  very  sick.  I  think  it  was  one 
of  Issachar's  drugs;  he  was  hardly  conscious  when 
brought  here,  and  though  he  roused  a  little  was 
taken  away  in  about  the  same  state. 

"Is  the  drug  dangerous,"  said  Sallus  nervously. 

"  No,  I  imagine  not,  except  that  it  prostrates  one 
for  a  time." 

1 '  Where  do  you  suppose  Issachar  has  taken 
him?  " 

"Of  that  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  said  Spino, 
pouring  out  more  tea  and  swallowing  it  with  a  great 
noise. 

Here  Cicily  came  closer  to  Sallus  and  looked 
appealingly  in  his  eyes;  "Your  whole  thought  is 
for  the  young  man;  what  of  me?  " 

He  blushed;  he  was  proving  a  great  cavalier 
indeed. 

"  Really,  Miss  Cicily,  I  shall  do  as  I  said;  I  must 
find  Aleppo  and  steal  you;  there  is  no  other  way.' 

"  When  you  have  found  him,  it  will  be  too  late  to 
steal  me;  Issachar  will  put  me  out  of  sight.  Spino 
and  I  must  get  off  somehow,  but — we  have  no 
money." 

"  That's  easy  enough  to  remedy;  but  wait  " — an 
awful  thought  had  shocked  him — "  you  will  have  to 
be  patient  till  Aleppo  is  found;  there  is  no  alterna 
tive.  Should  we  spirit  you  and  Spiuo  away,  the 
Jew  will  take  revenge  on  Aleppo." 


224  EL  RESHID 

"Then  his  life  is  more  important  than  mine," — 
she  said  this  in  a  piqued  tone. 

"  His  life  is  everything  !  "  said  Sallus,  rising  and 
walking  the  room,  "but  don't  you  worry,  Miss 
Cicily;  I  have  a  powerful  backing  and  plenty  of 
money.  I  can  buy  you  from  Issachar.  You  say 
you're  of  little  value  to  him  since  your  relatives 
have  thrown  off  on  you;  he  will  be  glad  to  get  a 
customer.  Stay  here  quietly  with  Spino  and  act  as 
though  you  had  never  heard  of  me.  Keep  on  the 
watch  though,  and  send  your  old  nurse  out  with 
letters  to  my  room  when  there  is  news;  it  is  the 
only  plan.  Trust  me,  sweet  girl,  will  you?  " 

A  rosy  blush  spread  over  her  neck  and  face  ;  but 
pouting  she  said,  "  It  seems  strange  to  be  bought." 

" 'Tis,  rather,  but  never  mind  Miss  Cicily;  I'll 
tell  Regan  all  about  it,  and  he'll  back  you  too." 

"Who  is  Regan?  " 

"  My  best  friend  since  Aleppo  vanished — a  phil 
osopher  and  a  Yankee.  You  can  trust  him  too." 

The  girl  seemed  mystified,  but  said  nothing. 
Sallus  discovered  a  tear  dropping  from  her  long 
lashes,  and  his  heart  smote  him.  Yet,  it  might  be 
all  a  part  of  the  trap,  a  fictitious  sorrow  conjured 
with  a  purpose.  He  was  becoming  suspicious  of 
Catus,  of  Spino,  of  Cicily.  Were  they  all  a  band 
worked  by  the  Jew  ?  Yet,  she  was  pretty,  this 
Cicily,  and  so  pathetic.  He  must  leave  instantly  ; 
he  was  afraid  of  himself.  If  he  failed  now,  or  lost 
his  bearings,  or  varied  from  his  fixed  purpose,  what 


SPINO  225 

would  Aleppo  say,  to  whom  he  had  vowed  to  be 
loyal  unto  death  ;  so  he  put  on  a  stern  look  and 
faced  Spino. 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  rather  strange  that  Isaachar 
should  have  brought  Aleppo  here  ?  How  did  he 
know  but  that  you  might  betray  him  ?  ' ' 

"  Do  you  think  we  are  fools  ?  "  she  answered  ; 
"  Issachar  considers  our  gabble  as  harmless  as  rain 
drops.  No  one  believes  us,  understand  ? ' ' 

"Ah!"  Sallus  backed  toward  the  door.  "I 
shall  be  in  the  room  across  the  street  ;  send  me 
word  if  you  have  news — any  news."  He  reached 
his  hand  to  the  old  lady,  then  to  the  young,  and 
bowing,  drew  back  the  curtain  and  began  to 
descend  the  stairs.  A  cold  sweat  broke  out  over 
him  ;  he  knew  not  why.  The  passage  way  to  the 
region  below  was  narrow  and  dark.  He  glanced 
nervously  right  and  left  and  then  behind  him. 

Ah  !  a  claw-like  hand  was  drawing  back  the 
portiere  through  which  he  had  just  passed,  and 
Issachar,  noiseless  as  a  cat,  stepped  from  the  dark 
passage  near  the  stair-way  into  the  lighted  room  he 
had  just  left. 

The  young  man  shivered  from  head  to  foot ;  then 
bracing  himself,  for  he  was  no  coward,  began  to 
think.  Should  he  face  the  Jew  then  and  there,  or 
was  it  a  part  of  wisdom  to  slip  out,  leaving  Issachar 
misled.  Sallus  condensed  an  hour's  cogitations 
into  a  minute.  "The  Jew,"  he  thought,  ''imagines 
he  has  played  the  spy  without  being  caught.  He 


226  EL  RESHID 

heard  all  that  I  had  said  ;  nevertheless  I  am  fore 
armed  because  forewarned."  And  during  this 
minute  of  condensed  thinking  Sallus'  eye  was 
fixed  intently  on  the  arras  at  the  head  of  the  stairs- 
"  Should  I  open  Issachar's  eyes  to  my  knowledge 
of  his  presence  here,  it  would  be  the  worse  for 
Aleppo;  yes,  I  must  go."  He  swallowed  his 
wrath,  which  was  rising  with  his  hot  blood,  and 
deliberately  finished  his  descent ;  passing  out  into 
the  street,  the  most  mystified  man  in  Cairo.  He 
had  gone  but  a  few  steps  when  he  met  Regan 
sauntering  before  the  shops.  He  had  finished  his 
visit  to  Catus ;  had  been  to  his  hotel  and  returned 
to  watch  for  Sallus.  The  two  started  homeward 
arm  in  arm. 

"Well,  "said  Regan. 

"Whew  !  !  " 

"What's  up?" 

"  The  devil's  to  pay." 

Sallus  recounted  everything  to  Regan,  who  whis 
tled  between  sentences  one  melancholy  minor  note 
that  filled  into  Sallus'  impassioned  speech  like 
a  musical  accompaniment  to  a  stage  tragedienne. 

When  he  had  finished,  Regan  remarked  dryty, 
"A  trap  after  all." 

"As  far  as  Issachar  goes,  yes  ;  but  the  girl  I 
can't  fathom." 

"  Nor  I  ;  but  say,  how  much  of  this  business 
does  Rhea  know  ?  " 

"  She  understands  a  little  about  Issachar,"  said 


SPINO  227 

Sallus,  "  and  thinks  we  have  a  clew  ;  she's  braced 
by  hope.  In  ray  opinion,  though  I've  never  spoken 
of  it  before,  there's  something  between  Aleppo  and 
Rhea." 

"  Shake  on  that,"  said  Regan,  squeezing  his  com 
panion's  arm,  "  she  never  says  anything,  but  no 
girl  on  earth  would  wait  'round  for  a  young  man 
unless  there  was  something  like  that.  She  has  the 
tour  of  the  planet  before  her,  and  her  aunt  is  rag 
ing.  She  has  a  cause  for  staying,  or  I'm  off  my 
base." 

Sallus  was  silent. 

They  were  nearing  the  hotel  when  the  men  both 
turned  suddenly,  conscious  that  some  one  was  fol 
lowing  them.  Getting  over  the  ground  very 
rapidly  was  a  peculiar  figure  wrapped  from  head  to 
foot  in  a  black  shawl.  Sallus  recognized  the  gait 
and  bearing  of  Spino,  and  said  directly, 

"What  is  it?" 

She  came  very  near,  displaying  her  grotesque 
face  to  the  astonished  Regan. 

"The  Jew  is  back,"  she  hissed;  the  words 
piercing  the  men's  ears  like  needles  ;  then  without 
waiting  for  comment  she  vanished  down  a  side 
street,  leaving  Regan  and  Sallus  rooted  to  the 
ground. 

"  Good  God  !"  said  Regan,  "what  was  that  ?" 

"  A  woman." 

' '  Heaven  save  us  !  " 

"  It  is  Spino." 


228  EL  RESHID 

"I've  seen  women  and  women,"  said  Regan, 
"  but  she  takes  the  cake.  Has  she  ever  been 
married  ?  " 

"Probably." 

"  He  had  lots  of  nerve, *  said  Regan. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  LIBYAN  SANDS. 

A  skin  tent  was  pitched  about  a  hundred  miles 
west  from  Cairo,  on  the  trackless  waste.  The 
Khemseen  had  been  blowing  all  day,  but,  as  the 
sun  set,  a  hush  fell  on  the  desert,  and  the  tent  was 
thrown  open  to  the  fresh  air. 

A  young  man,  on  a  pallet  of  straw,  looked  out 
on  the  broad  expanse,  stretching,  stretching  end 
lessly,  even  to  the  blue  depths,  where  the  stars 
floated.  He  watched  the  celestial  splendor  with 
patient  eyes,  whence  longing  had  departed,  and 
where  only  a  resigned  self-reliance  remained.  They 
were  dark,  beautiful  eyes,  somewhat  sunken 
beneath  a  forehead,  whose  pallor  betrayed  both 
weakness  and  pain.  His  face  was  white  as  the 
driven  snow;  even  the  hot  wind  of  the  desert  had 
failed  to  paint  it;  its  thinness  being  more  apparent 
from  the  heavy  masses  of  black  hair,  which  had 
been  brushed  back  carelessly  from  his  brow.  He 
was  too  weak  to  get  upon  his  feet,  but,  raising  him- 


THE   LIBYAN    SANDS  229 

self  upon  his  elbow,  he  leaned  out  of  the  tent  and 
watched  a  slim  Arab,  as  he  moved  back  and  forth 
in  the  shadow,  preparing  sticks  for  a  fire. 

From  another  goat-skin  habitation,  near  by, 
there  emerged  a  remarkable  individual,  a  Bedouin, 
a  monarch,  a  desert  king.  He  gave  directions  to 
the  Arab  in  a  commanding  voice,  and  then 
approached,  with  dignified  strides,  to  the  young 
man's  tent. 

"  Aleppo  Romanes,  I  have  come  to  instruct  thee 
yet  again." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Aleppo,  wearily. 

"  The  map  of  heaven  I  read  like  a  book," — his 
voice  rose  and  fell  in  a  sing-song  monotony — "from 
the  stars  I  gain  strange  revelations,  warnings, 
omens.  See'stthou  that  fiery  sun  that  banishes  all 
others  from  the  sky,  and  cuts  the  blue  with  its 
million  keen  blades  of  light,  as  though  it  were 
armed  against  the  entire  heaven;  it  sends  its  rays 
even  into  thine  eyes,  and  reflects  thyself  to  thyself. 
It  is  Sirius — the  star  of  thy  nativity,  the  self-illumi 
nating,  the  mystic,  the  all-absorbing;  it  is  typical 
of  thee.  In  the  forming  of  self  thou  shalt  melt  to 
a  white  glow,  and  burn  with  the  fire  that  never 
goes  out.  Thy  handmaid  is  Vesta;  she  serves 
thee  well. 

"  What  mean  you  by  this  talk,"  said  Aleppo, 
mournfully.  "  It  seems  to  be  a  vague  monologue, 
that  carries  no  weight." 

"I  mean,"   said  the  Bedouin,  "that  thy  fate  is 


230  EL  RESHID 

written  on  thy  hand,  and  in  thine  eye;  thou  art 
destined  by  the  centuries  behind  thee,  to  the 
majesty  of  isolation;  thou  art  constrained  to  be  great, 
for  the  march  of  events  has  lifted  thee  above  low 
passion,  into  power." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  very  weak,  said  Aleppo,  brushing 
a  tear  from  his  eye,  yet  looking  on  the  star-lit  face 
of  the  Bedouin  with  fascinated  gaze. 

"  Thy  body  is  prostrate;  thy  soul  is  in  the  cruci 
ble;  but  the  day  cometh  when  thou  shalt  wax 
strong." 

"  You  have  befriended  me,"  said  Aleppo,  "  with 
out  you  I  should  have  died.  Can  you  not  tell  me 
the  purpose  of  Issachar,  and  the  meaning  of  this 
delay  ?  " 

"The  purpose  of  Issachar  is  naught  to  me  nor 
thee.  The  Jew  is  great,  but  signs  are  greater.  Thy 
fate  is  written  in  the  stars;  not  even  Issachar  can 
stay  Aldebaran  in  its  course,  nor  stop  the  march  of 
Hercules." 

"Astrology  is  blank  to  me,"  said  Aleppo,  sigh 
ing;  "nor  do  I  believe,  either,  in  the  scroll  of 
heaven,  or  this  thin  palm  of  mine  hand;  in  you, 
however,  I  have  faith.  You  are  more  subtle  than 
your  creed,  and  would  know  me,  were  no  mark 
upon  my  body,  nor  star  in  the  sky.  And  you  speak 
truly;  the  past  has  forced  me  to  the  desert,  where, 
alone,  I  shall  see  heaven;  no  golden  mean  remains 
for  me;  the  extremes,  alone,  are  mine — either  to 
blanch,  a  skeleton,  upon  this  trackless  waste,  or 


THK   LIBYAN   SANDS  231 

rest  mine  eyes  in  ecstacy  upon  the  star  of  stars. 
A  5-6,  Sirius,  to  thee  I  look;  a  burning  splendor, 
majestic  and  alone," 

"  He,  only,  who  can  endure  isolation,  is  worthy 
of  the  crowd." 

"You  speak  well,"  said  Aleppo;  "man  must 
know  the  desert,  if  he  would  be  worthy  of  life. 
There  was  one  in  Judea  who  spent  forty  days  in 
the  wilderness;  I  feel  myself  banished  for  a  life 
time.  You  are  wise,  my  faithful  friend,  but  will 
you  not  rid  j^ourself  of  the  rubbish  of  superstition, 
which  sticks  to  you  like  rags  to  the  beggar." 

"Already  thou  hast  begun  to  teach,  said  the 
Bedouin,  a  peculiar  expression  lighting  his  face. 

"It  strikes  me,"  replied  Aleppo,"  that  pure 
wisdom  needs  no  veil.  Truth  should  be  clear-cut, 
like  a  cameo.  Why  blur  it  with  astrology, 
alchemy,  delusion  ?  Is  not  science  good  enough, 
and  fact  ? ' ' 

The  Bedouin  cast  on  Aleppo  a  strange  look,  and 
said  calmly, 

"  Canst  thou  read  a  riddle  ?  " 

"I  might,"  said  Aleppo,  "  if  I  puzzled  long 
enough;  but  why  the  riddle?  Are  not  the  eternal 
principles  inscrutable  without  making  mysteries  out 
of  self-asserting  truth,  which  refuses  to  be  hid  ?  " 
Nay,  my  friend,  get  rid  of  your  rubbish,  and  polish 
your  gem;  it  will  be  bright  enough  if  you  will  but 
let  the  sun  bring  out  its  glitter." 

"  Canst  thou  read  a  riddle  ?  "  repeated  the  Bed- 


232  EL  RESHID 

ouin,  who  still  maintained  the  same  peculiar 
expression  of  face. 

Aleppo  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  What  mean  you  ?  " 

"  Consider  well;  to-morrow  evening  I  shall  speak 
to  thee  again."  He  walked  into  the  haze  of  night, 
leaving  Aleppo  tired,  but  astonished. 

He  was  getting  better,  and  would  lie  for  hours 
recalling  as  much  as  he  found  possible  of  the  events 
which  had  followed  each  other  in  his  life  since  he 
had  met  Issachar  at  Karnak. 

He  remembered  well,  following  the  Jew  to  the 
Arab  hut,  where  he  had  been  shown  the  papers 
that  proved  his  identity,  beyond  a  doubt.  He 
recalled  the  sensation  of  faintness  that  had  over 
come  him,  and  the  glass  of  water  which  Issachar 
had  placed  to  his  lips;  then  nothing  for  days. 
Later,  he  had  opened  his  eyes  to  watch  the  moon  on 
the  Nile  and  feel  a  phantom — Rhea,  kissing  his  lips. 
He  recalled  how  his  consciousness  had  come  and 
gone.  Once  he  had  looked  about  a  strange  room, 
and  had  seen  Issachar  preparing  a  -draught;  also  a 
witch-like  woman  and  a  beautiful  girl. 

He  had  been  on  the  desert  for  weeks,  though  at 
first  he  had  realized  but  little  of  it,  conscious  only 
that  they  had  changed  their  location  again  and 
again,  and  that  once  he  had  waked  up  to  gaze  at 
the  walls  of  a  tomb,  where  Issachar  and  the  Bedouin 
were  sitting  side  by  side,  on  the  ground,  deeply 
engaged  in  earnest  talk.  For  a  long  time,  now,  how- 


THE   LIBYAN    SANDS  233 

ever,  he  had  been  of  strong  and  lucid  mind,  though 
his  body  still  failed  to  do  his  bidding.  For  the  past 
week  they  had  remained  in  one  place;  Issachar 
being  absent,  and  the  Bedouin  on  guard. 

Aleppo,  in  his  mental  wanderings  backward,  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  since  he  had  been  at 
Karnak,  something  had  been  given  him  continu 
ously,  to  keep  him  in  this  helpless  state.  He  could 
neither  surmise  the  reason  of  this,  nor  prove  the 
fact;  nevertheless,  he  felt  certain  that  his  judgment 
about  the  matter  was  correct. 

Strangely,  he  neither  regretted  his  past,  nor  the 
fate  that  was  overtaking  him,  but  felt  dimly,  yet 
surely,  that  he  was  destined,  by  the  very  nature  of 
events,  to  realize  something  better  than  he  had 
ever  yet  known.  Nor  did  he  feel  that  Rhea  was 
lost,  save  to  the  eye  and  the  touch.  He  was  so 
conscious  of  this  and  the  vague  ecstacy  of  spirit 
ual  contact,  that  his  deprivation  in  the  physical 
seemed  as  nothing.  He  was  as  one  who  sensed 
Paradise  and  realized  the  golden  age.  Never  more 
would  the  old  delights  overwhelm  him,  nor  gross 
pleasures  subdue.  He  had  had  a  drop  of  the  elixir 
on  his  tongue  and  the  taste  remained  with  him.  All 
else  was  now  judged  by  comparison;  the  divine 
charm  throwing  the  lesser  into  the  shadow.  He 
felt  his  celestial  destiny;  not  for  the  reason  of  his 
environment,  nor  through  the  persuasion  of  others, 
but  because  of  his  consciousness  of  self.  When  he 
passed  under  the  Propylon,  he  was  flooded  with 


234  EL  RESHID 

light — his  former  years  were  to  him  as  nothing;  his 
future  a  dream;  only  to-day  was  of  value,  with  its 
majesty  of  desert  stretches  and  its  arch  of  blue; 
only  the  stars,  and  his  illuminated  soul,  which  felt 
causation  and  futurity  as  one  and  the  same;  and  the 
present  hour  as  a  throb  of  rapture.  He  had  come 
from  the  narrow  by-path  of  specialization,  to  the 
broad  expanse  of  a  full  view,  where  his  eyes  swept  the 
meandering  roads  of  his  past  with  a  clear  glance, 
and  focussed  all  that  was  behind  him  on  an  isolated 

* 

spot  on  the  sands  of  Libya,  where  his  body  lay 
prostrate  in  a  tent  of  skins.  He  had  lost  his  life  to 
find  it.  His  friends,  phantoms,  whose  voices  were 
dying  echoes;  his  passionate  love,  a  far-off  throb  of 
bounding  blood;  his  ambitions  all  in  the  past,  long- 
gone  ;  and  he,  with  mind  attuned  to  celestial  music, 
with  eye  fixed  on  Sirius — his  natal  star— saw, 
clearly,  the  meaning  of  himself.  Something  in 
him  had  awakened,  which  clarified  his  intellect  and 
purified  his  emotions.  A  comprehensiveness  of  the 
purpose  of  his  life,  a  quick  and  subtle  logic,  an 
ecstacy  of  sensation,  that  in  other  days  he  had  but 
dimly  known.  There  was  nothing  in  this  new 
splendor  of  himself  which  savored  of  sickly  senti 
ment,  or  the  froth  of  feeling;  on  the  contrary,  he 
had  begun  to  be  conscious  of  the  masterly  poise, 
which  is  struck  through  the  realization  of  the  subtle 
limit  of  the  power  of  head  and  heart. 

He  thought  of  other  men,  young  men,  who,  like 
himself,  loved.     He  saw  them  wedded  and  settled 


THE   LIBYAN  SANDS  235 

in  life,  and,  as  the  years  went  by,  falling  into  the 
wearying  drudgery  of  the  commonplace.  He  felt 
the  fate  of  the  mortal  and  shuddered.  Doomed  to 
sully  his  ideal,  man  crushes  the  wings  of  the  but 
terfly  and  cripples  the  soaring  bird.  But  he,  out 
side  of  conventionality  by  the  fatality  of  his  birth, 
beheld  the  short  road  to  immortality,  clear-cut  and 
direct. 

Some  discover  the  breadth  and  power  of  being 
by  slow  degrees;  lighting  a  million  little  tapers, 
one  after  another,  they  pick  their  way  out  of  the 
darkness  into  the  glare  of  noon.  Others  take  but 
a  step,  and  lo!  the  dungeon  is  behind  them,  and 
the  sun  overhead. 

Aleppo  had  no  plans,  nor  much  philosophy. 
Some  things,  however,  were  clearly  revealed.  He 
must  elude  the  clutch  of  Issachar;  turn  his  back 
on  his  parents  and  his  past,  hold  a  last,  sweet  inter 
view  with  Rhea,  then  seek  the  rose  gardens  of 
Damascus  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  one  whose  name 
was  a  mystery  and  whose  face  was  veiled.  To 
accomplish  this,  he  must  recover  his  strength,  and 
seize  upon  an  opportunity  when  Issachar  was 
absent  to  make  his  escape.  The  prospect  was  cer 
tainly  gloomy.  He  had  no  idea  on  what  part  of 
the  desert  he  was  hid;  but  surmised  that  they 
were  either  near  Cairo,  or  an  oasis,  for  several 
times  fresh  Arabs  had  arrived  and  deposited  water 
skins,  while  the  old  ones  had  departed.  The 
Bedouin  would  make  no  communication  about  their 


236  EL  RESHID 

situation  and  prospects,  and  he  was  left,  in  this 
respect  to  his  own  cogitations  and  plans. 

The  next  evening  after  his  talk  with  the  nomad, 
that  strange  individual  appeared  in  his  tent  again, 
finding  Aleppo  much  stronger,  and  sitting  cross- 
legged  on  his  bed  of  straw,  like  a  Turk. 

"  The  sickle  of  the  moon  has  appeared  in  the 
heaven,"  said  the  Bedouin;  "and  when  it  hath 
grown  to  a  full  orb,  thou  wilt  be  well." 

''Most  gladly  will  I  get  about  once  more," 
answered  Aleppo,  with  his  old  beaming  smile. 
' '  But  will  you  not  tell  me  the  plans  of  Issachar  ? 
I  have  continued  to  beseech  you,  but  in  vain." 

"  Issachar 's  plans  are  naught  to  me  or  thee,  as 
before  thou  hast  been  informed." 

"You  seem  to  be  my  friend  in  spite  of  appear 
ances;  I  trust  you,  although  you  are  acting  in  har 
mony  with  the  Jew,  and  depriving  me  of  the  right  of 
liberty,  if  not  of  health;  still,  I  feel  your  friend 
ship  and  wisdom,  and  doubt  not  but  that  you, 
yourself  are  deceived  as  to  Issachar 's  real  motive, 
and  are  doing  his  bidding  with  a  clear  conscience." 

The  strange,  half -veiled  smile  that  had  been  on 
the  Bedouin's  face  before,  appeared  again;  he 
looked  searchingly  at  Aleppo,  placed  his  hand  to 
his  breast,  then  dropped  it,  speaking  sharply  at  the 
same  time,  as  if  impelled  by  a  power  beyond  him 
self. 

"  And  what  wouldst  thou  do  with  thy  liberty  if 
it  were  thine  ? ' ' 


THE   LIBYAN  SANDS  237 

With  these  words  he  gazed,  with  a  keen,  intense 
expression,  into  Aleppo's  eyes.  The  young  man 
felt  the  challenge,  and  tossing  back  his  hair  in  the 
old  fashion,  said,  promptly,  as  though  no  other 
answer  were  possible, 

"  I  would  seek  the  feet  of  the  Master,  and  lean 
on  him,  that  I,  too,  may  become  great." 

"Thou  hast  friends,  ambitions,  love,"  said  the 
Bedouin,  "  what  wouldst  thou  do  with  these  ?  " 

"  I  would  make  myself  worthy  of  them;  till  then, 
my  friends  and  I  must  part.  He  only  is  fit  to  have, 
who  can  do  without.  He  only  is  able  to  rule  who 
has  first  served.  He  only  is  worthy  of  love  who 
can  abide  alone." 

"  Aleppo  Romanes,  thou  has  stood  the  test;  take 
this."     He  drew  from  the  folds  of  his  robe  a  sealed 
letter,  and  placing  it  in  the  young  man's    hand 
turned  and  left  the  tent. 

The  light  was  dim,  but  the  keen  eyes  of  Aleppo 
caught  the  familiar  symbols  and  tearing  it  open,  he 
ravished  the  self-illuminated  scroll  with  his  very 
soul. 

THE  LETTER : 

"  The  mortal  passes  from  the  womb  to  the  grave, 
reversing  all  things.  He  acquires  learning  with 
out  wisdom,  and  love  without  service.  He  repro 
duces  without  regeneration,  and  dies  ere  he  has 
lived. 

' '  The  immortal  wrenches  victory  from  the  grip  of 
defeat,  and  life  from  the  clutch  of  death;  he  makes 


238  EL  RESHID 

the  desert  to  blossom  as  a  garden,  and  hell  to  glow 
with  the  light  of  heaven.  He  turns  despair  to 
ecstacy,  and  frenzy  into  rapture.  He  extracts 
honey  from  bitter  herbs  and  the  dregs  of  the  cup 
are  sweet  upon  his  tongue.  Losing  love  in  the 
flesh,  he  gains  it  in  the  spirit,  and  escapes  the  vul 
ture  and  the  worm. 

"Arise!  Thou  art  chosen!  To-day  thou  dost 
look  up;  in  time  thou  shalt  look  down." 

Aleppo  struggled  to  his  feet  and  stood  in  the 
door  of  his  tent.  The  heaven  was  blazing  with 
star-light  and  a  thousand  eyes  beamed  on  him  from 
the  arch  overhead.  He  breathed  deeply  the  soft, 
warm  air  of  Libya  and  felt  his  blood  rush  through 
his  veins. 

To  whence  had  vanished  the  half  timid  boy  ? 
The  eyes  of  Aleppo  had  suddenly  acquired  the 
quick  glance  of  the  Master,  who  mocks  at  fate, 
and  defies  destiny. 

A  half-fledged  bird  had  stood  on  the  edge  of  the 
nest;  challenged  by  hunger  and  mocked  by  death; 
but  spreading  his  wing — lo!  space  universal,  height, 
motion,  freedom,  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
WHEREFORE  ? 

Caesar  Catus  was  a  man  of  affairs.  He  left  Cairo 
promptly  on  the  morning  after  his  interview  with 
Regan,  and  appeared  again  at  a  railway  station  in 


WHEREFORE  239 

Genoa,  where,  cigar  in  mouth,  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  platform  awaiting  the  arrival  of  an  in 
coming  train.  It  was  near  dusk  and  the  depot  was 
already  lighted.  Catus  consulted  his  watch  a 
number  of  times,  but  without  any  appearance  of 
restlessness,  and  stopped  to  reward  two  or  three 
vagrants  for  doing  nothing,  carrying  himself 
altogether  like  a  man  of  the  world,  even  to  having 
a  word  or  two  with  a  dissolute  woman  who  flaunted 
her  shame  in  the  eyes  of  the  railroad  officials  with 
unblushing  audacity.  What  he  said  to  her  was  not 
heard  on  the  outside,  but  it  was  noticed  that  she 
departed  from  the  station  straightway  with  a  smile 
on  her  lips.  A  street  boy  caught  the  glitter  of  gold 
coin  in  her  hand,  as  she  went  out,  and  yelled  loudly, 
"  Struck  it  rich,  didn't  you."  Later,  that  same  imp 
of  the  pavement  sauntered  up  to  Catus  and  began  a 
pitiful  tale;  he  struck  it  rich  also,  for  that  gentle 
man  collared  him  on  the  spot  and  gave  him  such  a 
scathing  look  that  he  did  not  get  over  it  for  many 
a  day.  Catus  accomplished  a  good  deal  in  the  few 
minutes  of  waiting;  he  made  a  number  of  notes; 
read  and  answered  a  letter;  sent  a  telegram  and 
drank  a  cup  of  coffee;  all  without  any  fuss  and  with 
great  dispatch.  He  was  dressed  in  a  strictly  correct 
English  costume,  and  looked  quite  a  different  figure 
from  the  one  that  lounged  in  the  oriental  den  in 
Cairo.  The  epicure  was  metamorphosed  into  the 
man  of  action,  who  carried  his  load  of  responsi- 


240  EL  RESHID 

bility  with  great  ease,  as  though  used  to  the  wear 
and  tear. 

The  engine  of  the  incoming  train  came  snorting 
to  the  station  like  a  roaring  bull  in  harness,  and 
wheezed  and  puffed  as  it  slowed  up  as  though  it 
were  the  victim  of  an  incurable  asthma.  Catus 
placed  himself  instantly  at  the  door  of  a  particular 
car  and  watched  the  passengers  as  they  alighted. 
The  last  individual  that  came  forth  arrested  his 
attention  at  once,  and  following  him  to  where  the 
light  struck  full  in  his  face  he  intercepted  his  further 
progress  and  placed  his  hand  to  his  head  and  heart. 
The  eyes  of  the  two  met  for  an  instant  and  the 
salute  of  Catus  was  returned. 

The  traveller  stooped  somewhat,  and  looked  care 
worn  and  anxious ;  his  thick  black  hair  was 
sprinkled  with  white  and  a  stubble  of  gray  beard 
covered  the  lower  part  of  his  face.  His  counte 
nance,  which  was  that  of  a  very  handsome  man, 
seemed  prematurely  aged;  the  only  sign  of  youth 
still  retained  being  a  lock  of  dark  hair,  untouched 
by  the  ash  of  time,  that  fell  on  a  lofty  brow,  in 
Napoleonic  fashion,  and  which  his  soft  hat,  set 
back  on  his  head,  brought  into  full  view.  His  eyes, 
restless  as  though  impatient  of  life  itself,  had  in 
them  a  composite  expression  of  bereavement  and 
anxiety,  as  though  they  were  ever  weeping  for  some 
thing  vanished,  and  searching  for  something  to 
come.  The  two  men  began  a  conversation  in 
oriental  dialect. 


WHEREFORE  241 

"  I  recognized  you  at  once,"  said  Catus. 

"  How,"  asked  the  other  wearily. 

"By  that  lock  of  hair  on  your  forehead;  it  is 
famous." 

The  stranger  tossed  it  back  with  a  shake  of  his 
head — "  In  another  life  it  will  be  blasted," — smil 
ing  grimly — "  it  has  been  both  my  pride  and  my 
worry;  but  speak — what  news?  " 

"  All  is  well,"  said  Catus,  touching  his  head  and 
heart  again. 

"  And  Issachar  ?  " 

"  A  match  for  the  Bedouin." 

"Ah!" 

"  The  combatants  are  unequal,"  went  on  Catus; 
"  we  shall  have  to  reinforce." 

"  And  I  in  the  meantime? " 

"  Be  patient,"  said  Catus;  patience  is  a  virtue 
that  you  have  need  of;  acquire  it  now." 

The  stranger  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  Catus  who,  without  glancing  at  the 
superscription,  placed  it  inside  his  note-book. 

"  It  shall  be  delivered." 

"  Now  Mr.  Catus,"  he  said,  "though  I  have 
never  met  you  before,  I  place  myself  entirely  in 
your  hands;  do  with  me  as  you  will." 

At  this  Catus  glanced  begind  him,  and  an  indi 
vidual  loomed  up  from  the  shadow,  who  announced 
that  a  carriage  was  waiting.  Catus  took  the  arm 
of  the  stranger,  and  the  two  emerged  from  the 


242  EL  RESHID 

station,  to  vanish  into  the  black  recesses  of  the 
vehicle  at  the  door. 

Two  or  three  hours  later  Caesar  Catus,  prowling 
around  some  of  the  low  haunts  of  Genoa,  found 
himself  in  front  of  a  disreputable  house  that  boldly 
announced  itself  to  those  who  understood  its  vile 
vocation  in  the  scheme  of  the  universe.  Scanning 
the  number,  aided  by  a  squint  between  the  eyes, 
he  made  himself  manifest  in  a  peculiar  way  and  the 
door  flew  open  as  though  swung  on  fairy  hinges. 
His  companion  of  the  railway  station,  dressed  with 
reckless  daring  as  to  arms  and  neck,  greeted  him 
effusively,  and  ushered  him  into  a  tawdry,  flashy 
apartment  that  spoke  of  the  hand  to  mouth  style  in 
vogue  among  people  of  her  class. 

Catus  seemed  perfectly  at  home  as  though  used 
to  such  places  and  women.  "  I  announced  to  you 
at  the  station  that  I  should  call  later,  and  I  gave 
you  some  money,  do  you  remember  ?  " 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  said  laughing,  do  you  suppose  money 
slips  out  of  my  mind  as  quickly  as  it  does  from  my 
pocket?  I'm  sure  you're  a  pretty  gentleman, 
Mr.  Jackson." 

''Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  improvised  Mr. 
Jackson,  looking  fixedly  at  the  woman  who  was  not 
half  bad;  "  I  must  tell  you  a  little  of  myself;  I 
want  you  to  understand  me." 

"  Oh,  do  you  ?  that's  a  new  departure,"  said  she 
archly. 

' '  I'm  accustomed  to  visiting  places  like  this  when 


WHEREFORE  243 

I  pass  through  a  city,  and  on  my  return  going  over 
the  same  ground  again. " 

"Well" — something  like  a  blush  stole  up  and 
edged  the  rouge  on  her  face. 

"  I  correspond  with  a  hundred  women  like  you." 

She  was  slightly  piqued  ;  it  was  an  unusual 
sensation  for  a  woman  of  her  kind,  and  she 
wondered  what  was  the  matter  with  her;  she  was 
amazed  too,  at  such  an  eccentric  visitor;  she  had 
never  met  a  man  like  this  before,  and  simply  had 
nothing  to  say,  but  sat  looking  at  him. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Catus;  "now  and  then  I  see  a 
face  that  I  think  is  worth  cultivating.  You  had 
gone  pretty  far  though  to  prowl  around  a  railway 
station;  you  are  too  young  and  good  looking  for 
that." 

In  spite  of  herself  a  couple  of  tears  fell  from  her 
eyes  and  left  their  tracks  in  the  rouge  on  her  cheeks; 
she  had  not  wept  for  a  year !  what  did  it  mean? 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  correspond  with 
you,"  said  Catus. 

"Me  !" 

"  Why  yes,  you— I  write  very  good  letters." 

She  lifted  her  startled  eyes  and  looked  him  over; 
was  he  crazy,  or  was  she? 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  you  some  money,  and  I 
shall  be  back  to  see  how  you  use  it,  later.  In  the 
meantime  write  to  me." 

A  new  idea  struck  her  and  she  asked  timidly, 
"Are  you  a  priest?  " 


244  EL  RKSHID 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  nor  a  philanthropist,  nor  a 
religious  specialist.  I  am  interested  though,  in 
about  a  hundred  women,  whom  I  feel  sorry  for.  It 
seems  to  me  they  are  literally  driven  to  be  bad  by 
us  men.  Our  physicians  instruct  us  that  we  need 
you;  our  city  government  winks  at  this  unevenly 
distributed  Yoshiwara  where  you  and  your  kind 
abide.  Virtuous  women  have  a  sword  continuously 
suspended  over  their  heads,  which  means  nothing 
other  than  a  threat  from  their  pastors  and  husbands, 
that  unless  they  walk  the  path  laid  out  for  them, 
they  will  force  their  abused  helpmates  into  your 
very  arms.  Society  demands  you,  and  poor  scape 
goat  that  you  are,  more  sinned  against  than  sinning, 
it  curses  you,  and  dumps  you  without  coffin  into  a 
pauper's  grave,  when  your  three  year's  work  is 
done. 

The  woman  stood  up;  the  tears  were  streaming 
down  her  face,  ' '  I  haven't  cried  for  a  year — my 
God  !" — she  burst  into  a  frenzy  of  sobbing,  and 
tore  her  hair  and  clenched  her  hands  like  one  gone 
mad. 

"  There  .".said  Catus,  "I  am  glad  to  see  this; 
you  have  a  big  heart — more's  the  pity;  the  bigger 
the  heart  the  oftener  the  people  trample  on  it;  that 
is  the  way  with  us  men;  we  dry  your  last  tears,  we 
squeeze  the  last  blood  from  your  veins,  then  we 
kick  you  out.  The  more  beauty  you  have,  the 
more  pleasure  it  gives  us  to  blast  it.  We  never 
dream  of  coaxing  the  bud  of  your  charm  into  a 


WHEREFORE  245 

flower;  we  tear  open  the  petals  before  it  has  bloom 
ed  and  throw  it  away  with  a  curse." 

"But  you,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  in  a  be 
wildered  way,  through  her  dishevelled  hair  that 
had  fallen  over  her  face. 

"I,  well,  I  am  sorry,"  before  he  could  prevent  it 
she  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  on  her  knees  as 
though  she  were  praying,  with  clasped  hands,  and 
sobs  she  poured  out  her  woe. 

"  Go  away  from  here  "  she  said,  "  go  !  It  is  use 
less;  even  God  cannot  help  us.  The  priest  came 
and  I  drove  him  off;  we  are  bad  entirely.  The 
men  are  no  worse,  you  mistake;  we — I  am  bad." 

"Yes,  I  know  it, ".said  Catus,  "You  are  very 
bad,  about  as  evil  as  you  can  be;  and  that  means 
that  you  can  be  very  good." 

"What— I  ?     O,  I  should  hate  to  be  good. " 

"I  don't  blame  you,"  he  answered;  "  I  should 
too,  if  good  meant  to  me  what  it  does  to  you." 

"  I  have  a  horror  of  heaven,"  she  went  on,  "and 
angels,  and  virtuous  women,  and  churches,  nor  do 
I  want  a  respectable  funeral,  nor  a  tomb;"  and 
while  she  said  it  the  tears  flew  in  gushes  and  washed 
away  the  powder  and  rouge. 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  Catus,  "we  are  out  and  out 
Bohemians  both  of  us;  but  you  see,  my  dear  woman, 
your  idea  of  what  good  is  and  mine,  are  different; 
to  be  good  is  to  be  happy;  are  you  happy  ?  " 

"  Happy,  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you  mean." 

"  No,  I  presume  you  do  not.     To  be  happy  is  to 


2i6  EL  RESHID 

get  the  very  best  there  is  out  of  life;  in  my  opinion 
you  are  getting  the  worst." 

She  seemed  dazed,  but  looked  at  him  with  that 
wistful  expression,  which  comes  from  a  half-clouded 
intellect.  He  was  a  fact  however,  this  man  who 
sat  before  her,  and  he  had  expressed  in  her  behalf 
and  those  of  her  class  a  certain  kind  of  sympathy 
which  she  had  missed  in  the  priest  and  a  few  Bible- 
women  who  called  to  level  scripture  texts  at  her. 
She  cared  nothing  for  goodness,  nor  gentility,  nor 
religion,  but  she  did  admire  him  in  that  respectful 
way  that  made  her  ashamed  of  her  room  and  herself. 

"  Now,"  said  Catus,  "  I'm  not  going  to  stay  any 
longer;  promise  me  that  you  will  go  to  bed  and  try 
to  sleep  all  night.  I  don't  leave  money  with  some 
women,  not  a  penny,  but  with  you  it  is  safe.  I  have 
made  no  mistake  about  you  I  am  sure.  In  a  month 
I  shall  pass  through  Genoa  again  and  shall  call  to 
see  you;  but  you  must  not  be  here,  understand.  Get 
a  respectable  room  and  modest  clothes;  keep  off  the 
street  and  rest  and  grow  strong,  for  you  are  sick, 
did  you  know  it  ?  Write  me  a  long  letter  once  a 
week;  here  are  the  envelopes."  He  handed  her 
four  of  them  stamped  and  addressed.  "I  shall 
answer  them  all.  Tell  me  where  you  are  living, 
and  everything.  Now  Nita,  don't  be  afraid;  here 
is  more  money  than  you  can  possibly  earn — good 
bye." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  her;  she  took  both  and 
kissed  them  passionately,  while  the  tears  fell  in 


WHEREFORE  247 

showers,  and  he  let  the  precious  drops  dry  on  them 
as  though  they  brought  comfort  and  strength. 

When  he  had  gone  she  threw  the  gold  pieces  up 
and  down  and  listened  to  them  jingle,  then  stowing 
them  away  very  carefully,  she  fastened  her  door  and 
windows,  and  drew  the  shades  so  as  to  give  the 
room  on  the  outside  an  appearance  of  darkness; 
after  that  she  sat  down  before  the  dressing  table  and 
examined  herself  in  the  mirror  with  the  eye  of  a 
connoiseur. 

"  Three  years,"  she  said  out  loud,  "  and  I  have 
gone  through  about  half  of  it;  only  eighteen 
months  and  then  I'm  done.  It  takes  more  rouge 
and  powder  every  day  to  make  me  up.  I'm  getting 
thinner  too,  and  she  examined  the  visible  bones  of 
her  chest.  And  he  says  it's  all  the  men's  fault,  but 
I  -Jknow  it  isn't.  Nobody  tempted  me,  that  I 
remember;  I  just  deliberately  came  here.  I  don't 
like  being  good  or  virtuous,  now  that's  the  plain 
truth;  yet — three  years  is  an  awful  short  time.  He 
said  that  I'm  not  happy  " — here  the  tears  fell  again 
— "  that's  one  word  of  truth  he  spoke  anyhow;  but 
I  wasn't  happy  before,  never  was  happy — I  don't 
believe  he  is  either.  I  could  be  happy  though  " 
she  took  out  the  pins  and  let  the  luxuriant  hair  fall 
over  her  thin  shoulders — "  if  he'd  come  once  in  a 
while  and  talk  like  that.  I  can't  work  for  my  living, 
and  I  don't  want  to,  but — I'd  work  for  him.  I 
wouldn't  mind  blacking  his  shoes  even,  but  for  any 
body  else  I  wouldn't  lift  a  finger — not  I.  He  wants 


248  EL  RESHID 

me  to  go  away  from  here;  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  any 
other  person,  not  a  soul  on  earth.  I  like  it  here, 
and  moving  is  a  nuisance,  but  I  expect  I'll  have  to, 
yes,  and  he  told  me  to  go  to  bed  and  sleep.  It 
seems  queer  to  be  minding  anybody;  I  never  did 
that  before,  even  when  I  was  a  child — I  wonder  if 
this  is  being  good." 

She  washed  her  face  and  threw  her  rouge  and 
powder  boxes  all  into  a  heap  in  the  corner,  and 
turning  up  the  light  to  get  a  full  view,  she  began 
making  up  faces  at  her  regenerated  image  in  the 
glass;  "the  uglier  the  better,"  she  said,  and  she 
squinted  and  scowled,  and  contorted  her  once  fair 
visage  into  innumerable  grotesque  and  ugly  shapes. 

"  Now  Nita  you  are  good,"  she  said;  "  you'll  not 
paint  nor  powder,  nor  sell  yourself  for  a  month; 
you'll  grow  fat  maybe,  and  pretty  again,  if  you 
sleep  nights  and  keep  off  the  streets — if  it  wasn't 
for  him  it  would  be  stupider  than  dying,  but  I  guess 
I  can  manage  it.  I'll  not  tell  another  woman  in  the 
house  a  thing  about  this  affair  either,  and  she  tossed 
her  head  as  though  already  she  had  attained  a 
height  they  knew  nothing  of  and  never  could. 

The  next  day  she  managed  to  vanish  from  her 
old  haunts  as  though  she  had  been  annihilated ;  not 
a  vestige  of  her  remained;  we  take  that  back;  there 
was  one — the  girl  upstairs  found  a  gold  piece  under 
her  door  which  somehow  she  attributed  to  Nita 
though  why,  she  never  knew. 


THE  MISSION   OF    ISSACHAR  249 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE  MISSION  OF  ISSACHAR. 

.  Sallus  continued  to  reside  in  the  house  opposite 
the  dwelling  place  of  Issachar,  but  that  individual 
had  again  disappeared;  nor  did  he  see  anything  for 
several  days  of  Spino  or  Cicily. 

Regan  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  with  him,  and 
they  planned,  and  threatened,  and  waited,  but 
nothing  came  of  it,  They  dreaded  to  bring  direct 
legal  action  against  Issachar,  for  fear  that  he  would 
take  revenge  on  Aleppo;  so  they  worked  under 
cover,  in  vain  hope  that  they  might,  in  some  way, 
outwit  him,  and  save  their  young  friend  from  per 
sonal  harm. 

One  day  Sallus  and  Regan  were  conversing 
together,  whtn  the  door  was  softly  opened  and 
Spino  ambled  in. 

"  Pull  down  the  curtain,"  she  said,  "  so  nobody 
can  see  me  from  the  outside;  I'd  be  uneasy  if  I 
were  discovered."  She  was  uglier  than  ever,  and 
more  interesting. 

"  What  is  it — have  you  any  news?  "  said  Sallus, 
after  introducing  her  to  Regan. 

"  Nothing  special;  only  I  wanted  to  talk.     Issa- 


250  EL,  RESHID 

char  has  been  gone  a  week,  and  I  said  to  Cicily, 
'  now  is  his  chance.'  " 

"  No  you  don't,"  muttered  Sallus  to  himself;  "we 
want  to  get  our  bearings  first. " 

"By  the  way,"  said  Regan,  "may  I  ask  you 
some  questions  about  Issachar  ?  " 

"  You  may,"  she  answered,  solemnly. 

"  In  the  first  place,  what  is  his  profession,  any 
how?" 

"Stealing." 

1 '  But  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  he's  no  ordi 
nary  thief ;  how  do  you  think  he  manages  it  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  it  is  this  way,"  she 
answered;  "somebody  vanishes  from  somewhere, 
Issachar,  perhaps,  is  a  thousand  miles  off,  but  he 
knows  all  about  it;  has  his  emissaries  at  work  in 
every  part  of  the  earth;  later  he  cultivates  the 
bereaved  relatives,  and  poses  as  a  magician,  who 
discovers  lost  treasures  and  victims  that  disappear, 
agreeing,  through  his  supernatural  powers,  and  for 
a  price,  to  restore  the  lost." 

"And  so  he  is  responsible  for  the  very  disap 
pearance  itself ,"  said  Regan. 

"  Always,  though  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  he 
never  sees  the  victim.  Issachar  is  at  the  head  of  a 
band;  my  husband," — Regan  winked  at  Sallus — 
"  was  one  of  them ;  they  have  a  mysterious  sym 
bol,  which  is  called  the  devil's  mark;  and  make 
themselves  known  to  each  other  in  any  part  of  the 


THE   MISSION   OF  1SSACHAR  251 

earth.  Issachar  stole  Cicily's  mother,  and  he  has 
the  young  man  you  seek." 

"  How  is  it  that  he  is  never  apprehended  ?  " 

"  He!  'Twould  be  impossible;  I  defy  you  to  find 
a  victim  of  Issachar,  or  to  implicate  him  in  any 
way.  Should  he  deliver  up  the  young  man  to  his 
parents,  he  would  so  stipulate,  and  they  would  be 
so  implicated,  that  their  mouths  would  be  sealed  ; 
besides,  Issachar  knows  the  whole  Sahara,  to  say 
nothing  of  Libya,  his  allies  are  faithful  unto  death 
— every  one;  the  life  of  a  man  who  betrays  Issachar 
is  not  worth  a  farthing." 

' '  How  about  you  ? ' '  said  Sallus. 

' '  I  might  talk  to  all  Cairo  and  he  'd  not  turn  his 
hand  over.  He  looks  upon  my  gabble  as  rain 
water;  in  fact,  he  rather  likes  it;  the  more  that 
Cicily  and  I  talk,  the  better." 

The  two  men  stared  at  each  other  greatly  puz 
zled.  What  did  she  mean?  Whether  she  were 
working  for,  or  against  the  Jew,  they  could  not 
make  out. 

"  It  seems  to  me  one  person's  talking  is  as  bad  as 
another's." 

' '  No,  it  is  not ;  I  used  to  express  my  opinion 
before  the  whole  band,  but  they  shed  it  as  a  roof 
does  water.  What  we  Arab  women  say  has  no 
weight;  we're  all  grumbling  and  lying,  from  morn 
ing  till  night." 

"But  Cicily?" 

"  Oh,  she   repeats   me;  everybody  knows   that. 


252  EL  RESHID 

She  was  born  on  the  desert  and  understands  noth 
ing  but  what  I've  told  her.  The  whole  world 
believes  that  she  is  Issachar's  niece;  you're  the 
first  folks  I've  found  that  listen  to  my  story." 

' '  How  do  you  know  that  you  are  correct  in  your 
surmises?  " 

<(  How  do  I  know  !  Haven't  I  heard  them 
scheming  for  hours,  when  the  band  met — Issachar 
calls  it  a  corporation — wasn't  my  husband  a  mem 
ber  ?  Mark  me," — her  voice  rising  to  a  shrill 
shriek — "  I  know,  and  what  is  more,  I  warn  you, 
that  all  your  puerile  efforts  to  outwit  Issachar 
and  save  the  young  man  are  useless.  It  takes  a 
magician  to  compete  with  a  magician;  only  another 
as  subtle  as  Issachar,  and  as  shrewd,  whose  eyes 
and  hand  are  trained  to  quickness,  who  has  devoted 
allies  and  unusual  powers  can  hope  to  match  Issa 
char — the  son  of  darkness  and  the  devil's  own." 

Her  voice  rose  to  a  screech,  but  her  words  were 
those  of  an  orator.  The  effect  was  amazing;  she 
looked,  in  the  dim  light  of  the  room,  like  a  witch 
of  antiquity,  whose  rattling  bones  and  mummied 
visage  were  animated  by  a  ghostly  Csesar,  or  a 
phantom  Demosthenes. 

"  In  my  opinion,"  said  Regan,  getting  up  and 
shaking  himself,  as  though  to  throw  of  the  uncanny 
atmosphere  that  had  settled  on  them  all,  "  in  my 
opinion,  Issachar  is  a  blackmailer  of  the  first 
water.  You  rate  him  too  high,  Madame;  can  show 
you  a  half  dozen  of  his  trade  in  New  York.  He's 


THE  MISSION   OF  ISSACHAR  253 

pretty  smart,  no  doubt,  but  you  put  him  a  peg  or 
two  above  his  mark.  See  ?  " 

Spino  shook  her  head.  "You  haven't  got  the 
better  of  him  so  far,  have  you  ?  " 

"  We've  only  begun;  get  a  Yankee  after  a  Jew 
and  they  generally  keep  neck  to  neck;  don't  know 
which  one  will  skin  ahead,  but  it  will  be  a  close 
race,  I  can  tell  you.  Now,  my  good  woman,  how 
did  it  happen  that  Issachar  was  at  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  behind  the  arras,  the  day  that  Sallus  called  ?  " 

"  That's  a  question  I  can't  answer,"  said  Spino; 
he  appears  and  disappears,  like  any  other  wizard." 

"Moral,"  answered  Regan,  "shake  every  cur 
tain,  and  set  a  trap  at  the  stairs  when  you  call  on 
Cicily,  Sallus,  my  boy.  See  !  " 

"Can  you  make  anything  out  of  this,"  said 
Spino;  "  I  found  it  in  Issachar's  inner  pocket 
the  last  time  he  was  here;  I  put  another  in  its 
place." 

She  handed  Regan  a  blank  envelope,  inside  of 
which  was  another  addressed  in  oriental  dialect. 

''Not  much,"  said  Sallus;  "it  is  probably  from 
one  of  the  Jew's  correspondents. ' ' 

"I  know  better  than  that,  although  I  can't 
translate  it;  but  I  know  a  man  who  can." 

"  How  does  it  concern  us,"  said  Regan,  doubt 
fully. 

"  Trust  to  my  instinct  that  it  does, ' '  she  answered. 
"  There's  a  dried-up  old  specimen  of  a  linguist  at 
the  end  of  the  street.  I'll  bring  him  here,  if  you 


254  EL  RESHID 

say  so;  makes  a  business  of  deciphering  all  sorts  of 
hieroglyphics,  to  say  nothing  of  languages;  have  to 
pay  him  though." 

The  two  men  hesitated.  To  steal  a  man's  letters 
was  not  to  their  liking,  but  the  emergency  was 
great. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  Regan,  "  we're  not  obliged  to 
read  the  inside,  if  we  find  the  outside  doesn't  con 
cern  us.  Get  him,  Spino,  and  I'll  shell  out." 

She  was  off  before  he  had  finished,  and  shuffling 
down  the  stairs,  in  an  incredibly  short  time  she 
returned  with  a  specimen  of  humanity  almost  as 
queer  as  herself.  The  four  made  an  odd  set;  the 
long-legged  Yankee  with  his  hollow  cheeks  and 
quick  eyes;  Sallus,  too  handsome  for  a  pen  picture, 
with  his  Apollo  head  and  athletic  figure;  the  hag 
of  hags — Spino,  and  a  wizened  interrogation  point 
of  a  man,  whom  she  called  Quiz.  He  seemed  to 
be  asking  questions  whether  he  spoke  or  not,  and 
curiosity  was  magnified  in  every  part  of  him,  as  it 
is  in  a  cat.  He  touched  things  curiously,  he 
looked  at  them  inquisitively,  his  nose  had  a  why 
and  wherefore  scent,  and  his  ears  listened  for 
answers  to  the  never  ending  questions  which  he 
seemed  to  be  propounding  from  morning  till  night. 
He  looked,  "What  is  it?"  when  he  entered  the 
room,  though  his  tongue  was  still. 

"  This,"  answered  Spino,  handing  him  the  letter. 
He  opened  and  questioned  it,  mumbling  a  few 
sounds  with  a  rising  inflection,  then,  turning  to 


THE  MISSION  OF  ISSACHAR  255 

Spino,  spoke   in   French,    which   she  immediately 
translated  to  Regan. 

' '  He  says  that  the  letter  is  addressed  to  Aleppo 
Bracciolini." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Sallus  and  Regan. 

"Listen,"  said  Spino;  "I  will  repeat  after  him 
in  English." 

LETTER. 

"To  get  the  full  force  of  the  opposite,  drive  a 
man  to  an  extreme.  Corner  a  peaceful  stag  if 
you  would  see  fight.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  power 
of  sorrow;  its  other  pole  is  joy. 

' '  The  Master  emerges  from  a  pedigree  that  has 
forced  him  to  the  wall.  Desperate,  he  transcends 
one  law  by  another,  and  resorts  to  the  principle  of 
extremity,  which  is  the  opportunity  of  God  in  him 
self. 

' '  Imprison  a  man  in  the  dark  and  he  realizes 
light;  starve  him  and  he  appreciates  food;  he  dis 
covers  health  through  pain,  and  beauty  through 
ugliness. 

"On  earth,  at  a  given  time,  but  few  live  who 
have  reacted  from  the  wilderness  to  the  gardens 
of  Hesperides — from  the  cross  to  the  crown. 

"  The  logic  of  events  has  taken  you  from  much 
to  naught;  finding  nothing  at  one  pole  of  yourself, 
you  rebound  to  the  other  and  discover  all.  You 
were  bereft  of  country,  parents,  and  that  which 
men  call  love;  the  gates  of  conventionality  clanged 
behind  you;  the  world  of  respectability  was  ready 


256  EIv  RESHID 

to  turn  its  back,  you  faced  a  blank,  which  was  as 
clean  and  white  as  a  new  scroll.  Reaction  was 
true  to  itself — from  nothing  you  recovered  every 
thing—the  void  brought  forth  a  universe.  A  fam 
ished  Keats  braces  his  ladder  to  heaven,  in  his 
attic  window,  whence  he  struggles  upward  to  the 
stars.  The  desperate  artist  paints  in  his  strong 
touches  with  blood,  and  destines  his  canvas  to 
immortality.  A  wretched  Pygmalion  breathes 
upon  his  Galatea  and  parts  with  the  fire  of  him 
self  that  the  statue  may  live.  If  you  would  com 
pel  all  things,  give  up  all  things.  When  a  Master 
is  forged  in  the  furnace  of  being,  the  Magi  come 
from  the  East,  and  a  new  star  appears  in  the  sky; 
there  is  a  commotion  among  the  wise,  and  bitter 
ness  in  the  camp  of  the  foe;  the  news  is  carried  to 
far  countries  and  secret  dispatches  are  sent 
from  mind  to  mind.  There  is  electric  contact 
between  the  great,  and  the  uprising  of  a  thinker, 
and  a  seer  braces  them  anew.  Thou  didst  lay  a 
spell  upon  thyself  in  ages  past;  to-day  it  takes 
effect." 

Spino  had  translated  slowly,  and  Sallus  had 
written  it  down. 

"That  is  beyond  me,"  said  Regan,  with  a  more 
serious  countenance  than  he  had  ever  worn  before. 

"I  grasp  it,"  said  Spino.  Sallus  and  Regan 
looked  at  her  and  said  nothing,  but  the  inquisitive 
Quiz  was  all  ears. 

"  We,  in  the  Orient,  believe  that  desperate  cir- 


THE   MISSION   OF   ISSACHAR  257 

cumstances,  that  which  you  call  opposition,  drive 
men  to  fortune.  The  poor,  when  all  else  fails, 
scratch  at  the  breast  of  their  mother,  like  hens, 
and  pick  out  gold.  Genius  is  the  legitimate  child 
of  hardship.  To  wake  up  the  whole  man  we 
know  that  the  gods  set  devils  on  him  like  a  pack 
of  wolves." 

"  That's  true,  I  forgot;  the  Lord  permitted  Satan 
to  interview  Job,  and  get  the  better  of  him  for  a 
time,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Regan. 

"  Only  for  a  time,"  went  on  Spiuo,  as  though 
teaching  a  Sunday  School  class.  She  was  a  marvel; 
how  she  had  managed  to  acquire  such  fluency  of 
language  and  keenness  of  thought  under  conditions 
like  her's,  was  beyond  the  understanding  of  Regan 
and  Sallus. 

"  You  see  you  don't  know  me,  gentlemen;  I  was 
ugly  as  sin  at  the  time  I  was  born,  and  have 
never  improved  since;  that's  why  I  know  some 
thing;  learning  was  all  the  show  I  had.  If  I  had 
been  beautiful  'twould  have  turned  out  differently; 
as  it  is,  I'm  up  in  languages  and  experimental 
science." 

"But  the  letter,"  said  Regan,  "what  does  it 
mean?  " 

"Just  this,  Issachar  has  intercepted  it;  'tis 
addressed  to  Aleppo,  and  is  from  Damascus.  1 
expect  it  was  enclosed  in  another  envelope  and 
remailed;  it  was  Issachar 's  business  to  intercept  it. 
He  cuts  telegraph  wires,  pillages  the  mails,  rifles 


258  BI,  RESHID 

pockets,  and  walks  the  streets  of  Cairo,  or  any  other 
city,  like  a  king." 

"Who  is  the  author  of  this  letter,  I  wonder." 
Sallus  picked  it  up  reverently. 

"It's  beyond  me  again,"  answered  Regan;  then 
both  men  stared  at  Spino;  she  had  a  curious,  sly 
expression  in  her  eyes,  which  aroused  suspicion  in 
their  minds  at  once. 

"That  letter,"  she  said,  "  was  sent  to  the  young 
man  by  a  servant  of  Allah." 

"  A  Mohammedan  !  " 

"  By  a  servant  of  Allah." 

"  Mohammedan  ?  " 

"Yes." 

' '  Is  that  your  religion  ?  ' ' 

"It  is." 

"  How  comes  it  that  you  go  unveiled,  and  ignore 
all  Mohammedan  customs  ? ' ' 

"  I  serve  a  Jew;  besides  I  am  a  woman  of  inde 
pendent  thought."  Again  a  sly  look  came  into 
her  eyes. 

"You  really  don't  believe  that  the  young  man 
has  been  clutched,  not  only  by  a  Jew,  but  by  a 
buzzard  of  a  Mohammedan  also,  do  you  ?  "  put  in 
Sallus. 

"Shouldn't  wonder." 

"  Ton  my  word,  you're  wrong;  'twasn't  a  Mos 
lem  that  wrote  that  letter.  Say,  Sal,  Aleppo  Brac- 
ciolini  must  be  a  mighty  important  personage,  that 


THE   MISSION   OF   ISSACHAR  259 

mysterious  people,  good  and  bad,  should  be  so  hot 
after  him.   I  wonder  if  he  is  a  prince  out  and  out?  " 

Quiz  and  Spino  exchanged  significant  glances. 

"Look  here,  madame,  you're  keeping  some 
things  back,  why  can't  you  make  a  clean  sweep 
while  you  are  about  it.  ?  " 

Spino's  eyes  snapped,  and  looked  like  little  red 
coals,  away  back  in  her  head. 

"  If  I  am  an  Arab,  no  one  can  drive  me,  not  even 
a  man," — she  made  a  great  show  of  indignation — 
"give  me  back  the  letter." 

' '  Not  at  all,"  said  Regan,  placing  it  in  his  breast 
pocket  and  buttoning  his  coat. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  That  I  can't  tell  at  present;  it  may  come  handy 
though.  Now  Quiz,  what's  the  damage?  The 
'  standing  question  '  named  a  ridiculously  small 
price,  and  the  two  eccentricities  departed,  leaving 
Regan  and  Sallus  as  puzzled  as  ever. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Sallus,  "  that  she  is  a  tool 
of  Issachar." 

"  Why  this  letter,  then  ?  " 

"  It  is  just  a  blind;  something  she's  copied  some 
where;  how  in  the  world  could  Aleppo  come  by 
such  a  correspondent  ?  " 

"Ask  me  something  easy,  When  you  get  in 
with  Jews,  Moslems,  and  Mohammedans  you  don't 
know  where  you're  at. " 

"  Issachar  would  stop  that  woman's  tongue  if  he 
hadn't  an  object  in  letting  her  talk.  However,  if 


260  EL  RESHID 

the  letter  is  genuine,  and  I  can't  get  over  the  idea 
that  it  is,  in  spite  of  all  indications  to  the  con 
trary,  what  shall  we  do  with  it  ?  " 

' '  Show  it  to  Rhea,' '  said  Sallus. 

"  Done!  and  this  very  night." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  HEATHEN. 

Rhea  was  a  conundrum  to  herself.  There  had 
been  a  love  scene  between  her  and  Aleppo  on  the 
Nile,  afterward  a  mutual  understanding,  expressed 
without  words;  but  there  had  never  been  any  plans 
made  between  them,  nor  had  the  future  been  dis 
cussed  at  all.  A  prudent  young  woman,  on  a  trip 
around  the  world,  would  have  renewed  her  journey 
long  since,  feeling  that  the  moonlit  beauty  of  a 
Nile  love  dream,  was  scarcely  adequate  to  hold  her 
like  a  fixture  in  Cairo,  when  the  young  man,  accord 
ing  to  Mrs.  Hancock,  had  run  away  of  his  own 
accord. 

The  romance  of  idealism  in  a  nature  such  as 
Rhea's  is  beyond  understanding  by  the  conserva 
tive  and  worldly  wise.  The  young  lady  kept  her 
self  to  herself,  obstinately  remaining  in  Cairo, 
without  deigning  to  explain  farther  than  she  had 
already  done.  The  Misses  Richards  had  departed 
long  since,  and  Mrs.  Hancock,  from  a  sense  of  duty, 


THE  HEATHEN  261 

she  said,  but  really  because  it  was  to  her  pecuniary 
interest,  had  "settled  in  Cairo  for  life." 

Rhea  never  for  an  instant  harbored  the  idea  that 
Aleppo  had  left  altogether  of  his  own  accord;  to  be 
sure  she  knew  but  little  about  him  except  what  he 
and  the  letters  had  told.  Their  personal  acquaint 
ance  had  been  very  short;  he  was  three  or  four 
years  younger  than  herself,  had  no  prospects  that 
she  knew  of,  and  the  idea  of  marrying  him  had 
scarcely  entered  her  head.  This  ma)'  seem  impro 
bable,  yes,  impossible  in  the  light  of  the  fact  of  the 
usual  modern  young  lady,  whose  love  dream  is 
tinctured  with  calculation,  and  whose  heart  is 
balanced  with  jewels  and  gold.  But  Rhea,  like 
Aleppo,  was  far  ahead  of  or  behind  the  times;  they 
were  children  of  romance,  and  suited  to  the  days 
of  the  cavalier,  or  the  Eden  of  the  Golden  Age. 

It  was  love  that  enraptured  Rhea.  A  man-made 
marriage,  a  humdrum  existence,  where  crude 
reality  should  serve  to  check  the  wild  beating  of 
the  heart,  were  scarcely  dwelt  upon  at  all.  Even 
the  presence  of  Aleppo  was  not  altogether  essential; 
she  loved — she  was  loved;  yet,  though  conscious  of 
this  blessedness  ever  with  her,  the  green  serpent  of 
jealousy  had  begun  to  sting.  Her  sorrow  at  the 
disappearance  of  Aleppo  had  vanished,  even 
her  fear,  but  by  the  true  instinct  of  woman  she 
realized  that  his  affection  was  divided,  that  there 
was  something  that  forced  him  from  her — his  now 
conscience,  or  a  divine  inspiration.  Whatever  it 


262  EL  RESHID 

might  be,  it  was  akin  to  that  which  compelled  the 
Prince  Siddartha  to  wander  away  from  the  bosom  of 
his  wife  and  the  shadow  of  the  throne.  She  knew  all 
this;  and  the  conjectures  of  Regan  and  Sallus  were 
as  nothing  to  her.  She  felt  his  personal  absence 
to  be  involuntary,  but  there  was  something  more 
subtle  which  she  had  sensed,  and  which  must 
separate  them  in  life — Aleppo  Bracciolini  was  des 
tined  to  scan  the  prospect  from  the  Maha  Meru  of 
being — and  she?  All  women  on  earth  who  had 
given  their  fathers,  husbands  and  sons  to  their 
country, who  had  sent  them  forth  for  the  cause  of 
science  and  truth,  who  had  seen  them  sacrificed  to 
religion  and  art,  were  like  herself — martyrs  upon 
whom  a  Master  had  set  the  seal.  Rhea  was  jealous 
of  truth,  of  grand  ideals,  of  God;  jealous  of  all 
sibylline  books,  of  mystic  powers  and  divine  possi 
bilities;  yet,  though  she  knew,  she  waited  striving 
to  quiet  and  delude  herself  into  the  belief  that  she 
was  mistaken.  Then  came  a  dark  day.  Sallus 
requested  an  interview;  and  the  mysterious  letter, 
delivered  by  Spino,  was  placed  in  her  hands. 

"  How  did  you  get  this  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  strange 
voice. 

Sallus  recounted  all  that  had  happened  since 
coming  to  Cairo,  in  regard  to  the  search;  he  ex 
pressed  his  hopes  and  his  doubts,  his  suspicions  and 
his  expectations,  telling  her  a  great  deal  about 
Cicily,  and  asking  her  very  earnestlv  to  judge  her 
for  him. 


THE  HEATHEN  268 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Rhea — still  in  the  un 
natural  voice,  "  I  should  have  to  see  her  first;  but 
about  this  letter  I  have  no  doubt;  it  is  a  genuine 
epistle  to  Aleppo — in  this  I  make  no  mistake." 

"  But  you  haven't  read  it,"  said  Sallus. 

Nor  do  I  need  to,  to  be  conscious  of  its  intrinsic 
value,  nor  the  source  from  which  it  came." 

"  You  must  be  a  psychic. " 

"  Perhaps  I  am — will  you  trust  me  to-night  with 
it" — still  in  the  same  strange  voice. 

No  matter  what  Rhea  asked,  Sallus  must  needs 
grant  it;  he  was  her  veritable  slave. 

"Certainly  Miss  Rhea,  forever,  if  it  gives  you 
pleasure." 

She  took  his  hand,  and  gave  him  that  peculiar 
look  which  seemed  to  see,  yet  did  not.  In  her  eyes 
he  read  misery,  despair ;  this  Sallus  could  not 
endure.  That  Rhea  should  suffer  was  to  him 
incredible. 

"  O,  Miss  Nellino,  please  don't  look  that  way  !  " 

She  tried  to  smile,  but  it  made  matters  worse. 
Tears  are  pathetic  enough,  but  there  is  a  smile 
forced  to  the  lips  for  friendship's  sake,  which  is 
heart-breaking. 

Sallus  was  distracted;  he  faced  things  as  a  rule, 
but  this  experience  with  Rhea  completely  unmanned 
him. 

"  I  must  do  something  for  you — you  suffer  " 
this  in  a  broken  way. 

"  Please  don't  bother,  Sallus,  I  am  all  right"— 


264  EL  RESHID 

he  knew  she  was  lying — "  the  climate,  Mrs.  Han 
cock  says,  is  not  good— am  a  little  ill  to-day.  Go 
now,  and  I'll  see  you  to-morrow  and  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  this."  She  smiled  brightly,  but  the 
young  man  was  not  deceived  ;  however  he  was 
forced  out,  and  went  off  to  Regan  in  a  state  of  des 
pondency  quite  unnatural  in  a  person  of  his  healthy 
physique. 

Rhea,  frozen  even  to  her  heart,  sat  down  to  read 
the  letter.  It  was  all  she  had  expected.  No  matter 
who  had  carried  Aleppo  off,  there  was  a  powerful 
influence  overshadowing  him,  that  compelled  him 
to  face  truth;  that  forced  him  to  the  ultimate — the 
finality  of  reason — the  premise  of  philosophy,  and 
the  foundation  of  religion.  She  heard  the  voice  of 
Jesus,  as  he  looked  upon  his  mother — "Woman, 
what  have  I  to  do  with  thee  ?  " 

Love  !  it  was  the  acme,  the  completion,  the  one 
thing.  Away  with  truth,  logic,  attainment,  power. 
Love  !  the  soft  glamour  of  it,  the  perpetual  infatu 
ation,  the  chaste  beauty,  the  song  sung  by  the 
breezes,  the  trees,  the  sea — the  rapture  that  has  its 
rhythm  in  the  tide  of  being,  rising  and  falling  like 
the  waves — the  passion  that  fired  Endymion,  and 
spent  itself  in  Keats — the  Sapphic  ecstasy  that  sang 
its  soul  out  to  the  Phaon  of  eternal  youth.  Love  ! 
the  pure  flame  ot  Vesta,  burning,  burning  !  The 
dim  mist  of  the  eye  that  veils  earth  in  beauty,  and 
softens  the  blush  on  the  rose— Love  !  that  wafts  to 
the  sense  the  spicy  breezes  of  a  magic  Ceylon,  or  an 


10 


THE  HEATHEN  265 

enchanted  garden  of  Araby — I,ove  !  that  brings 
Adonai  out  of  heaven  to  touch  up  the  landscape  of 
Eden,  and  Aphrodite  from  the  depths  to  intoxicate 
the  soul  with  the  ultimate  charm. 

Rhea  !  whose  spirit  was  Greek,  who  had  wander 
ed  in  dream  over  the  grassy  mounds  of  the  Helicon 
who  had  dabbled  her  white  fingers  in  the  waters  of 
the  Aegean,  who  had  leaned  against  the  columns  of 
the  Parthenon — Rhea  !  who  knew  well  the  stray 
trees  and  curving  beach  of  Mitylene,  whose  sandaled 
feet  had  trod  the  shores  of  I/esbos — Rhea  !  who 
loved  all  Attica,  and  whose  beautiful  face  was  akin 
to  the  marble  of  Praxitiles— Rhea  !  the  poet,  whose 
song  was  an  immortal  appeal  to  Aphrodite,  whose 
heathen  witchery  compelled  the  gods  to  descend — 
Rhea  !  must  she  tear  her  heart  from  her  breast  and 
the  laurel  from  her  brow  ?  Ah  the  wine  she  had 
drunk  in  the  old  time  ! — She  felt  the  fiery  soul  of 
Aspasia,  and  the  burning  lips  of  Sappho  full  upon 
her  own — must  she  destroy  the  love  immortal — her 
self- — her  very  self?  And  she  a  Greek  woman  of 
the  ancients — Ye  gods  !  To  put  out  the  fire  of 
love  was  to  drag  the  Uranian  Venus  from  the 
Celestials  and  bury  her  beneath  the  sod.  And  all 
this  for  wisdom's  sake,  and  an  Olympic  view?  Ah 
no  !  suffer  she  would,  as  did  the  poet  of  Lesbos  who 
stood  on  the  Tarpeian  rock — the  fire  of  herself  was 
divine;  she  was  Eve  without  temptation,  from 
whom  the  serpent  had  hid. 

Rhea  was  a  thrilling  rhapsody,  a  tragedy,  a  song; 


266  EL  RESHID 

and  yet, — the  ice  peak  of  Olympus  !  the  wild  New 
England  shore  !  In  her  abandon,  her  passion,  her 
misery,  she  forgot  the  square  brow  of  the  thinker, 
over  which  her  brown  hair  had  its  way  ;  she  forgot 
the  icy  stream  of  logic  with  which  in  times  past 
she  had  deluged  her  fiery  soul;  she  forgot  her  stern 
New  Kngland  ancestry  and  the  bleak  winds  of  the 
Atlantic. 

She  was  in  Egypt,  whose  azure  tints  and  daring 
skies  revivified  the  woman  of  history,  and  warmed 
the  blood  of  the  ancient.  She  loved  with  that 
immortal,  deadly,  love  which  was  not  of  the  body 
but  of  the  soul.  Immortal,  it  would  not  die;  deadly, 
it  sought  to  slay  itself.  And  this  is  tragedy.  We 
view  the  victim  of  the  knife  and  ball  with  horror; 
we  turn  our  back  upon  the  ghastly  face  and  prate 
of  tragedy — ha  !  ha  !  the  spatter  of  blood — ha  !  ha  ! 

Suddenly,  as  though  a  vivid  thunder-shower  had 
changed  into  a  sweep  of  falling  snow,  she  felt  the 
ice  upon  her  brow  and  the  freezing  logic  within. 
She  was  a  frozen  Labrador,  over  which  the  heat  of 
the  tropics  had  passed  in  another  age.  With  the 
keen  mind  of  the  thinker  she  remembered  her 
situation  and  prospects,  crushing  sentiment  as  does 
the  Alpine  climber  the  flower.  She  reasoned  with 
out  mercy,  and  talked  out  loud  in  the  stern  voice 
of  the  judge. 

"Who  are  you,  Rhea  Nellino,  that  you  stand  in 
the  way  of  a  man  younger  than  yourself;  who  may, 
for  aught  you  know,  be  a  prince  destined  for  a  royal 


THE  HEATHEN  267 

bride,  and  a  throne,  or,  if  called  to  some  sacred  and 
lofty  vocation,  what  right  have  you  to  interfere,  by 
your  passionate  rhapsody  and  Hellenic  romance. 
'  Tis  absurd  that  you  hold  the  episode  of  the  Nile 
as  any  but  a  passing  fancy  of  one  who  has  other 
dreams,  and  visions  which  annihilate  your  own. 
To  be  sure  he  loves  you,  but  what  of  that;  are  there 
not  others  besides  yourself  to  whom  he  may 
respond  ?  Why  demand  of  him  a  grand  absorbing 
passion,  when  heaven  is  full  of  stars,  and  the  eyes 
of  a  young  man  rove  in  enraptured  gaze  over  them 
all.  You  are  selfish,  Rhea  Nellino;  give  up — abjure 
— spurn ! 

"  But  I  can  not  ! " — The  lightning  flashed  again 
amid  the  drifts  of  snow — "  Can  Cupid  slay  himself 
with  his  own  darts,  even  though  Psyche  hover 
near? 

"Love  is  immortal  !  Aleppo,  seek  Olympus, stand 
on  its  icy  crest  and  freeze,  yet  must  thou  love  me  ! 
— Fly,  fly  to  the  very  verge  of  heaven,  and  part  us 
by  the  abyss  of  space,  yet  wilt  thou  remember ! — 
Learn  wisdom  from  the  Master,  sit  at  the  feet  of 
the  teacher  who  shall  unroll  the  scroll  of  the  ages 
before  thy  astonished  gaze,  yet  will  my  face  appear 
in  every,  picture,  though  time  shall  never  end  ! — 
Challenge  Isis,  lift  the  sacred  veil  of  the  future 
before  her  outraged  eyes,  yet  me  wilt  thou  see,  as 
far  as  thy  dim  vision  stretches,  even  to  the  vanish 
ing  perspective  of  the  years  ahead  ! — Me  !  me  ! — 
Rhea  Nellino,  coming,  going,  returning,  vanishing  ! 


268  EL  RESHID 

—Though  thou  rise  to  the  dignity  of  a  priest  or  the 
splendor  of  a  prince;  though  alone  on  the  desert 
nursing  the  shame  of  illegitimacy,  or  lifted  to  a 
position  of  power,  always  my  face — mine  ! — Though 
thou  aimest  to  the  breadth  of  vision  of  the  Master 
of  Galilee,  or  the  teacher  of  Benares,  though  thy 
wisdom  inundate  thee  with  formulas  and  brace  thee 
with  facts,  though  truth  purify  as  with  fire,  still 
wilt  thou  see  me  in  a  never  ending  dream  ! — 
Though  God  doth  wrap  thee  in  veils  till  he  himself 
appear  in  the  white  light  of  his  divinity,  even  there 
will  I  make  my  way  to  stand  before  thee  !  I  will 
haunt  thee  in  the  stars  ;  each  eye  of  heaven  that 
greets  thine  own  shall  flash  my  vision  at  thee  till 
all  the  blue  above  shall  tell  of  me  ! — The  deeps 
shall  reflect  me,  and  my  name  shall  echo  in  thine 
ears  forever  KS&  forever!  " 

She  paused,  and  held  her  breath  like  an  ecstatic 
of  Delphi;  seeming  to  see  Aleppo,  with  the  eyes  of 
an  entranced  soul,  and  to  him  she  spoke  that 
which  was  above  reason,  or  within  the  range  of 
experience.  She  prophesied  a  transcendentalism 
unknown  to  the  mortal,  and  possible  alone  to  the 
god. 

Out  of  the  veering  inconsistency  of  variety,  she 
sensed  the  changelessness  of  unity,  which,  like  a 
golden  thread,  ran  through  the  shimmering  pearls 
of  life.  She  had  risen  above  herself,  and  in  her 
extremity  of  pain  had  seized  upon  the  ultimate, 
which  is  the  love  that  never  dies.  Drawn  by  misery 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW  269 

to  the  brink  of  the  gulf,  which  separates  Psyche 
from  Eros,  she  discovered  the  bridge  of  gossamer, 
finer  than  a  spider's  web,  which  spanned  the 
depths  of  woe. 

"Henceforth,  Rhea,"  she  said  softly,  "  thy  home 
shall  be  above;  thou  hast  wings  like  the  bird;  thou 
shalt  fly  and  rest  on  the  mountain  peak,  like  the 
eagle;  thine  eye,  thou  shalt  train  to  far  sight;  and 
thine  ear,  to  catch  the  echoes  that  come  down  the 
ages  or  over  the  waste.  Hereafter,  thou  shalt  drink 
from  the  spring  of  the  river  of  life,  and  grow  warm 
at  the  eternal  flame." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW. 

"  I/amou'r  fait  beaucoup,  mais  1'argent  fait  tout;" 
so  spake  Spino;  but  Regan  failed  to  understand. 

"Speak  in  English,  please,  he  said,  with  a 
drawl. 

"  I  mean  that  you  can't  beat  the  Jew.  Love  is 
mighty,  but  money  is  almighty.  Your  affection  for 
Aleppo,  with  your  Yankee  wits  thrown  in,  will  be 
as  nothing  against  Issachar,  who  works  for  gold." 

"  Has  Issachar  ever  loved  anybody?  "  asked 
Regan,  with  considerable  curiosity. 

"He!  " 

"Why  yes,  he!" 


270  EL  RESHID 

"  How  on  earth  should  I  know?" — she  looked 
very  sly  and  peculiar. 

"Why  on  earth  should  you  not !  you're  wise  as 
a  serpent." 

"  And  harmless  as  a  dove,"  she  continued  with 
a  queer  laugh. 

"  Apparently,"  said  Regan;  "anyhow,  prove 
your  good  will  by  putting  Issachar  in  my  way,  or 
me  in  his,  I  don't  care  which;  you  will  get  your 
reward,  Madame  Spino,  on  earth  as  well  as  in 
heaven." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  reward  ?  "  she  asked, 
shrewdly. 

"  Money,  if  you  wish  it." 

' '  We  don't  want  money,  we  desire  to  be  captured, 
Cicily  and  I — stolen — kidnapped;  we  are  waiting 
for  you  and  Sallus  to  run  off  with  us." 

Regan  whistled  a  few  pensive  notes,  then  scruti 
nized  Spino  from  head  to  toe.  "  Is  your  husband 
dead,  Madame?  " 

"  Yes,"  showing  her  one  tooth  in  a  silent  laugh. 

"I  was  thinking,"  went  on  Regan,  "  that  if 
Sallus  takes  Cicily,  I  shall  have  to  run  off  with 
you." 

Spino 's  laugh  continued,  even  to  the  interior 
depths  of  her  cavernous  throat.  "  Shouldn't  like 
that  at  all,"  she  answered;  "you're  not  after  my 
fancy,  I  prefer  the  young  man." 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  Regan,  "  Sallus  will  have 
to  elope  with  you  and  I'll  take  CiciLy." 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW       271 

Madame  Spino  was  no  fool;  she  took  all  this  as 
a  huge  joke,  and  treated  Regan  to  the  airs  of  an 
arrant  coquette.  She  had  evidently  learned  from 
Cicily,  and  appeared  much  as  a  monkey  does  when 
aping  a  pretty  mistress. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  admire  Spino;  she  real 
ized  her  absurd  grotesqueness  so  perfectly  and  took 
it  so  good-naturedly,  transcending  it  in  such  a  mas 
terly  fashion  that  she  forced  one  to  pay  court  to  her 
subtlety  and  power,  whether  he  desired  to  do  so  or 
not.  She  was,  with  all,  so  mysterious  and  hard  to 
translate,  that  she  held  others  by  an  uncanny  fasci 
nation,  not  unlike  that  of  a  much  abused  witch. 

"You  wish  me  to  bring  about  a  meeting 
between  yourself  and  Issachar,"  she  said,  abruptly 
changing  her  tactics. 

"I  do." 

"When?     Where?" 

"Anytime.     Anyplace." 

"Night  or  day?  " 

"I'm  like  a  restaurant  that 's  lighted  up  at  all 
hours. " 

"  Can  you  crawl  through  a  two  and  a  half  foot 
hole,  more  or  less  ? ' ' 

"  Yes,  any  size;  why?  " 

"  Because  Issachar  wiggles  into  his  den  that  way, 
and  if  you  want  an  interview  you'll  have  to  stop 
that  hole  up  with  yourself,  there's  no  other  means. 

"  Suppose  I  get  stuck  there,  what  then  ?  " 

"  You'll   have   to   take  your    chances  on   that. 


272  EL  RESHID 

He's  in  Cairo  again,  and  goes  into  his  lair  every 
night." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  opens  out  of  the  shop  where  he  vanishes;  it 
has  a  blue  curtain  hanging  over  it,  with  a  big  yel 
low  dragon  picked  out  in  the  stuff." 

"Will  he  be  on  hand  to-night?  " 

"  Most  likely,  after  ten,  so  I  think;  but  I  tell  you 
its  no  use,  you'll  get  nothing  from  him  but  smiles 
—he's  the  devil." 

"So  am  I." 

"  Well,  good-bye,"  with  her  corkscrew  bow. 

This  all  happened  in  Sallus'  room  a  few  minutes 
after  the  other  interview  in  the  same  place,  and 
Regan,  fully  determined  to  "  beard  the  lion  in  his 
den,"  secretly  informed  Sallus  of  his  daring 
scheme. 

"  Issachar  has  returned,  and  Spino  has  let  me 
into  the  secret  of  the  shop,  which  seems  to  swal 
low  his  body  and  soul  every  time  he  enters  it;  he 
must  be  a  veritable  cat,  to  go  in  and  out  of  a  hole 
after  that  fashion.  The  Madame  says  he  is  guarded 
by  a  yellow  dragon,  picked  out  in  blue  silk." 

"How  do  you  know,"  said  Sallus,  to  whom 
Regan  had  given  an  accurate  account  of  his  inter 
view  with  Spino,  "but  this  is  another  trap  set  by 
the  old  woman  herself?  " 

"  Can't  tell ;  I  comprehend  one  thing,  though, 
loafing  round  and  doing  nothing  is  too  much  for 
me;  we  haven't  got  ahead  an  inch.  Catus  played 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW  273 

me  a  pretty  trick  too;  from  what  Spino  says,  I 
imagine  he's  in  with  the  Jew.  He  acted  to  me  as 
though  ignorant  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Aleppo, 
while  he  knew  well  enough  that  the  boy  had  been 
at  Issachar's  very  house.  Csesar  didn't  get  out  of 
Cairo  any  too  soon.  If  you  want  anything  done, 
do  it  yourself;  that's  my  maxim  from  now  on." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  manage  ?  " 

I'll  slip  into  the  shop  about  ten  o'clock  to-night; 
duck  my  head  under  the  dragon,  and  squeeze 
through  the  aperture,  if  I  have  to  stretch  out  a  yard 
longer.  It  takes  a  Yankee  to  narrow  himself  and 
elongate.  If  Issachar  can  make  it,  I  guess  I  can." 

' '  When  you  get  into  whatever  is  behind  that  cat 
hole,  what  then  ?  " 

"I'll  leave  the  rest  to  luck  and  chance. "  said 
Regan.  "  I  would  take  you  along,  but  'twouldn't 
do,  you'd  be  one  too  many." 

"  Sure,"  said  Sallus,  "I'll  be  on  hand,  though, 
within  call.  I  know  your  signal — understand." 

The  two  men  parted,  and  promptly  at  ten  o'clock 
Regan  walked  into  the  little  shop;  he  made  a  few 
purchases  of  the  ever  present  dealer  and  politely 
requested  him  to  step  to  the  entrance,  where  a 
gentleman  desired  him  to  make  some  inquiries. 
The  merchant,  apparently  with  great  innocence, 
turned  his  back  on  Regan,  and  began  a  confab  with 
Sallus,  who  stood  outside.  It  was  the  Yankee's 
chance;  more  quickly  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  he 
ducked  under  the  dragon  and  confronted  a  little 


274  EL  RESHID 

door  about  four  feet  square  and  two  from  the  floor;  it 
was  a  thin,  paralleled  arrangement,  swung  on  light 
hinges,  and  unfastened.  Opening  it  without  hesi 
tation,  and  making  a  hump  of  his  back,  he  got 
through  somehow,  to  find  himself  in  utter  darkness. 
Extending  his  hands,  he  felt  a  wall  on  either  side 
of  him,  and  presumed,  from  this,  that  he  was  in  a 
narrow  passage  leading  to  Issachar's  room.  He 
stepped  cautiously,  and  kept  going  farther  and 
farther  away  from  the  entrance. 

"Wonder  if  this  blamed  rat  hole  will  ever  end," 
he  muttered,  between  his  teeth;  he  had  no  more 
than  said  it,  when  he  came  against  a  second  swing 
ing  door,  which  flew  back,  and  sent  him  sprawling 
into  the  den  of  the  Jew. 

The  lion  had  evidently  departed,  for  the  room, 
though  lighted,  was  vacant.  It  was  a  low  apart 
ment,  about  ten  feet  square,  and  so  stuffed  with 
odds  and  ends  of  great  beauty  that  there  was 
scarcely  space  in  it  to  turn  around. 

He  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and  found  a  pile  of 
cushions,  upon  which  he  sank  like  a  wily  Turk.  A 
dim  candle,  scarcely  sufficient  to  see  by,  was  but  a 
poor  aid  to  his  eyes,  but  he  succeeded  in  making 
the  place  out,  after  a  fashion,  and  found  it  typical 
of  the  Master,  who  came  and  went  in  such  a  mys 
terious  way.  The  stuffs  about  him  were  of  the 
richest;  while  gold  and  silver  bronzes  and  Damas- 
can  blades,  to  say  nothing  of  manuscripts  and 
ancient  books,  gave  the  spot  an  ultra  appearance, 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW       275 

even  in  Cairo.  The  diabolism  of  most  of  the 
bronze  specimens  constituted  their  art.  There 
were  grinning  and  frowning  faces — monstrosities 
more  enigmatical  than  the  Libyan  sphinx,  half 
animal,  half  man;  serpents  and  dragons,  crouched 
hyenas,  and  a  startling  array  of  cats,  in  every  shape 
and  posture;  all  in  a  small  room,  whose  ceiling  was 
scarcely  seven  feet  high.  Much  of  the  brass  was 
green,  having  a  slimy  and  slippery  look,  which, 
as  it  threw  off  the  dim  light  of  the  dripping  candle, 
took  on  the  appearance  of  motion  and  life.  A 
scaly  dragon  seemed  to  undulate  and  crawl,  while 
a  filthy  frog  puffed  and  breathed  in  hideous  fashion. 
The  eyes  of  a  coiled  serpent  glittered  malignantly, 
and  a  long-legged  stork  opened  and  closed  its  beak. 
The  place  allowed  of  but  little  ventilation  and  the 
air  was  heavy  with  carbon  and  dust. 

Regan  sat  in  the  midst  of  this  squalid  wealth, 
chewing  his  mental  quid,  and  shivering  percep 
tibly,  although  as  a  rule,  not  given  to  "nerves." 

There  was  but  one  way  to  get  out,  and  that  was 
by  the  door  through  which  he  had  entered.  The 
creatures  about  him  had  become  so  animated  and 
repulsive,  that  he  half  made  up  his  mind  to  crawl 
away  from  the  accursed  spot  on  the  instant;  this 
feeling  was  momentary,  however,  and  summoning 
his  Yankee  grit  he  dove  down  into  his  pockets,  gain 
ing  courage  from  the  cold  touch  of  a  Colt's  revolver, 
concealed  inside.  He  remembered  Sallus  as  a  far- 
off  reality,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  reach  in  a 


276  Ely  RESHID 

hurry;  so  slapping  an  intrusive  cat  in  the  face,  and 
kicking  over  a  brass  crane,  he  stretched  his  long 
legs  and  stood  up.  It  was  none  too  soon;  the  door 
opened  softly,  and  Issachar,  looming  nearly  to  the 
ceiling,  confronted  him  with  his  eternal  smile. 

"  Ah !     How  honored  am  I  !  " 

"  Indeed  you  are,"  said  Regan,  his  hand  on  his 
pocket,  where  the  cold  steel  nestled,  "  don't  get  a 
visitor  like  me  every  day,  I  suspect. ' ' 

The  composure  of  Issachar  was  beyond  describ 
ing.  He  snuffed  the  candle,  and  arranged  the  pile 
of  cushions,  from  which  Regan  had  just  risen,  and 
said  with  great  dignity,  "  My  humble  room  is  at 
your  service;  what  will  you  have  ?  ' ' 

In  spite  of  his  good  cause,  Regan  felt  somewhat 
ashamed;  he  had  forced  himself  upon  the  Jew,  who 
had  received  him  very  graciously  with  no  show  of 
fear  or  anger.  Regan  had  desired  a  stormy  inter 
view,  something  to  rouse  his  blood,  but  the  Jew 
was  as  calm  as  a  Cairo  sky.  The  Yankee  stam 
mered  a  little  and  took  his  hand  from  his  hip, 
for  his  host  was  unarmed,  and,  marshalling  his 
thoughts,  and  seducing  himself  into  the  idea  that 
he  had  a  good  quid  in  his  mouth,  he  began — 

"  I  am  led  to  believe  that  you  know  something 
of  the  whereabouts  of  the  young  man,  Aleppo 
Bracciolini,  upon  whom  you  called  in  Venice — 
hem  !  " 

"  And  so  thou  earnest  here  to  inqure,"  said  the 
Jew,  politely.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  receive 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW       277 

guests  in  this  apartment,  I  beg  thee  to  excuse  its 
appearance  and  my  lack  of  power  to  entertain;  if 
thou  wilt  kindly  walk  up-stairs,  I  will  introduce 
thee  to  my  housekeeper  and  niece  and  make  thee 
more  comfortable." 

Regan  forgot  himself  and  spat  at  the  bronze 
turtle  on  the  floor  near  by;  he  was  upset  by  the 
suavity  of  Issachar,  which  was  something  he  had 
not  bargained  for. 

"No,  thank  you,  this  place  is  good  enough  for 
me;  besides  I  can't  stay  long;  just  answer  a  few 
questions,  will  you?  " 

"  Please  put  them,"  said  Issachar. 

4 '  In  the  first  place,  do  you  know  anything  about 
Aleppo  Bracciolini  ? ' ' 

"  I  have  sought  long  for  one  Romanes,  but  found 
him  not." 

"So  you  took  Bracciolini  in  his  place,"  said 
Regan.  I  may  as  well  speak  to  the  point.  If  it's 
money  you're  after,  I'm  as  good  a  bank  as  any, 
unless  it  be  a  Rothchild  or  a  Rockefeller;  what 
will  you  take  for  him  ?  ' ' 

4  (  Who  ? ' '  The  eyes  of  the  Jew  glittered  in  the 
dim  light  like  gold  coins. 

' '  The  young  man  that  you  kidnapped  at  the 
temple  of  Ammon." 

"I  fail  to  understand;  I  have  kidnapped  no 
young  man." 

14  Then  appearances  are   deceptive;    one   Caesar 


278  EL,  RESHID 

Catus  came  to  your  house  to  inquire  after  him, 
when  you  had  him  concealed  up-stairs." 

' '  Ah  !  Csesar  Catus  ! — how  knowest  thou  that  ?  ' ' 

"Watching  around  of  course;  I'm  hunting 
Aleppo,  and  I've  traced  him  to  you;  there's  no  use 
in  evading  any  longer.  I  could  have  you  arrested, 
but  there's  too  much  red  tape  about  it.  I  prefer  to 
turn  criminal  myself  and  buy  you  oft;  how  much  ?  " 

The  Jew  looked  keenly  at  Regan,  then,  with 
superb  dignity,  brushing  a  speck  from  his  immacu 
late  robe,  said,  "  I  understand  thee  not  at  all.  I  own 
a  shop,  wouldst  thou  buy  something,  go  there." 

"So  you  prefer  to  deal  with  those  who  are  in  the 
web — the  spider  doesn't  dive  after  worms  like  a 
bird." 

' '  Thou  hast  the  Yankee  metaphor, ' '  said  Issa- 
char  showing  all  his  teeth,  ' '  the  American  Indian 
speaks  the  same ;  is  there  anything  more  ?  ' ' 

' '  Have  you  Aleppo  Bracciolini  ?  ' ' 

"No." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is?  " 

"No"' 

Regan  refrained  from  referring  to  the  women  up 
stairs,  but  Issachar  remarked  in  measured  accent — 

' '  Thou  hast  heard  the  gabble  of  my  ancient 
housekeeper,  whose  talk  is  well  known  in  Cairo. 
People  listen  for  the  sake  of  hearing,  when  Spino 
speaks;  she  tells  fables  and  fairy  tales.  Ah!  she  is 
an  eloquent  one!  " 

"Well?  " 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  JEW       279 

''And  my  beautiful  niece  speaks  as  the  madame 
dictates;  they  gossip  both."  He  smiled  again. 

1 '  What  could  Regan  say;  he,  himself  had  sus 
pected  them.  Was  he,  after  all,  accusing  an  inno 
cent  man  ?  He  had  no  particle  of  proof  that  could 
implicate  Issachar,  save  the  gossip  of  these  two 
women,  who  might,  for  aught  he  knew,  be  amus 
ing  themselves.  He  could  get  no  hold  on  the  Jew; 
a  bribe  had  no  more  effect  than  a  threat.  Was  he 
on  the  wrong  track,  and  were  these  foolish  women 
up-stairs  making  a  greater  fool  of  himself. 

Issachar  had  not  even  a  vulnerable  heel,  he  was 
a  dignified  host  and  slow  to  anger;  nor  could  he  be 
seduced  by  the  jingle  of  coin,  so  thought  Regan, 
who  forgot  not  the  experience  of  Sallus,  when  the 
Jew  seemed  to  be  playing  the  spy.  Was  it  but 
seeming  after  all  ?  Sallus  had  been  unmerciful  in 
his  judgment,  but  did  that  prove  anything?  The 
Yankee  was  undone.  In  an  open  game  he  was  a 
match  for  the  devil,  but  under  cover,  an  angel 
could  master  him  at  once. 

"  I'm  sorry, "  said  Regan,  in  a  half-shamed  voice, 
"that  you  can  tell  me  nothing.  I  would  give  a 
good  deal  to  find  my  young  friend. " 

"  Didst  thou  ever  consider,"  said  Issachar,  in  an 
impressive  voice,  "that  probably  the  young  man  is 
dead?" 

Regan  looked  with  startled  eyes  at  the  Jew,  but 
said  nothing. 

"  He  disappeared  at  Karnac,  murdered,  undoubt- 


280  EL  RESHID 

edly,  for  a  sum  of  money,  by  an  Arab,  who  after 
wards  concealed  him  under-ground."  The  Jew's 
glittering  eyes  were  on  him.  "Dead,"  said  Issa- 
char,  "dead." 

"  Don't  believe  it,"  answered  Regan,  though  he 
shivered  from  head  to  foot,  while  the  bronze  Satan, 
in  front  of  him,  grinned  maliciously,  and  the 
crouching  dwarf  rolled  up  his  eyes.  "  Don't 
believe  it,  but  excuse  me,  Mr.  Issachar,  and  I  will 
bid  you  good-night;  you  have  a  queer  way  of  get 
ting  in  and  out  of  this  place." 

"  It  is  my  private  apartment,"  said  Issachar,  in 
a  stately  way,  that  abashed  the  intruder. 

He  opened  the  door,  and  held  the  candle  at  the 
end  of  the  passage,  till  Regan  made  his  exit,  crawl 
ing  under  the  yellow  dragon,  into  the  shop,  as 
thoroughly  beat  a  Yankee  as  ever  misunderstood  a 
mysterious  Jew. 

Sallus  was  on  guard  outside,  and  looked  greatly 
relieved  when  Regan  appeared. 

"How  did  it  turn  out?" 

"I'll  be  switched  if  I  know.  They're  the 
deucedest  puzzle  that  ever  I've  struck — the  whole 
lot  of  them.  Issachar  played  the  role  of  a  white 
Mahatma,  top  notch.  Compared  with  the  dragons, 
and  snakes,  and  imps,  and  frogs  and  cats,  inside,  he 
looked  like  the  driven  snow,  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning." 

"  There's  no  use  in  facing  him,  that's  certain," 


QUICK  ACTION  281 

answered  Sallus;  "  hereafter  we'll  work  behind  his 
back." 

' '  We  wont  gain  a  thing  by  that  either,  not  a 
thing.  I  believe,  now,  that  he  knew  I  was  coming; 
did  you  notice  how  innocent  that  shop-keeper 
appeared — too  all  fired  innocent!  Do  you  suppose 
Spino  played  a  dirty  trick  on  us  after  all  ?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  anything  any  more,  except  that 
we've  got  into  a  web  of  mystery  that's  two  sticky 
to  get  out  of. ' ' 

"  It  takes  a  Master  to  fight  a  Master.  I'm  no 
match  for  that  Jew;  good  or  bad.  Good  night,  Sal; 
sleep  if  you  can,  I  can't." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
QUICK  ACTION. 

Caesar  Catus  left  Henrique  Romanes  at  Genoa 
and  made  his  headquarters  at  Venice;  here  he 
wrote  and  got  letters  by  the  hundred,  to  say 
nothing  of  innumerable  telegrams  received  and 
sent.  His  manner  of  living  in  the  city  of  the 
Doges  was  entirely  different  from  that  of  Cairo. 
His  room,  atone  of  the  chief  hotels,  was  a  barren 
apartment,  having  more  the  appearance  of  a  busi 
ness  office  than  anything  else.  He  sefemed  to  put 
off  one  nature  and  take  on  another  as  he  did  his 
clothes.  He  scarcely  touched  a  cigar,  and  was  pain 
fully  abstemious  as  to  coffee  and  rich  food;  dis- 


282  EL  RESHID 

patching  business  with  marvelous  rapidity,  and, 
from  the  amount  of  work  accomplished,  might  well 
have  been  a  dozen  men  in  one. 

He  arose  one  morning,  about  a  month  after  his 
exit  from  Genoa,  and  looked  at  his  watch  ;  it  was 
half  past  five.  After  a  cold  plunge  and  a  rapid 
toilet  he  rang  for  his  breakfast,  which  was  served 
in  his  room.  It  was  a  simple  affair — some  crusts 
of  French  bread  and  a  tiny  cup  of  coffee,  taken 
straight.  Then  going  directly  to  his  big  table, 
which  was  loaded  down  with  papers,  letters  and 
dispatches,  he  tore  them  open  and  read  rapidly,  one 
after  another;  mastering  a  page  at  a  glance.  After 
perusing,  he  sifted  the  letters,  filing  some,  putting 
a  peculiar  mark  on  others,  and  throwing  a  large 
proportion  into  the  waste  basket.  Three  out  of  as 
many  dozen,  received  his  special  attention;  the  first 
was  from  Genoa,  signed  "  Nita."  Catus  read  it 
twice. 

' '  Dear  Mr.  Jackson  : 

1 '  I  got  your  letter  this  morning  in  answer  to  my 
last.  If  you  hadn't  sent  it,  I  should  have  put  on 
my  paint  and  powder  again.  I  hate  to  look  in  the 
glass;  a  woman  who  makes  up  appears  like  a  scare 
crow  natural.  It's  easy  living  now,  while  your 
money  lasts',  though  it's  going  fast.  I  couldn't  help 
it,  but  I  got  another  girl  just  like  me  to  lay  off  and 
be  good,  so  we  go  shares.  I  couldn't  have  staid 
here  alone  for  anybody,  not  even  you.  Yesterday 


QUICK  ACTION  283 

for  a  half-hour  I  was  actually  happy,  at  least  I 
think  I  was,  for  I  felt  as  I  did  once  when  a  child. 
The  other  girl  and  I  went  out  into  the  country;  we 
slept  well,  and  had  a  good  breakfast,  and  promised 
each  other  not  to  speak  of  anything  bad,  so  we  went 
back  to  the  time  when  we  were  good.  I  listened  to 
.the  birds,  I  don't  know  when  I've  heard  them 
before;  and  I  read  her  your  first  letter;  she  cried 
and  I  cried;  we  were  both  very  happy. 

"  Perhaps  you  think  reforming  is  easy,  but  it  isn't. 

"Please  write  soon. 

NIT  A." 

Caesar  laid  this  letter  aside  carefully  and  his  eye 
glittered;  whether  it  were  a  steely  glance,  or  a  tear, 
it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell. 

The  next  in  the  pile  of  latest  arrivals  was 
addressed  in  a  strange  hand,  which  he  failed  to 
recognize,  and,  turning  the  letter  over,  he  held  it 
to  the  light.  The  inscription  was  bold  and  strong — 
"  Caesar  Catus,  Cairo."  It  had  been  forwarded, 
and  evidently  the  writer  had  no  knowledge  of  his 
present  address.  He  tried  to  get  an  impression 
from  it  before  opening  and  succeeding  somewhat 
he  tore  off  the  seal  and  read: 

' '  Dear  Mr.   Catus: 

' '  Have  you  forgotten  Rhea  Nellino  ?     I  met  you 

once  in  Cairo,  and  have  thought  often  of  you  since. 

It  may  seem  absurd,  my  writing   this  letter;  I  act 

on  intuition  absolutely,  and  though  I  try  my  best 

'to  reason  myself  out  of  it,  I  feel  certain  that  you 


284  El/  RESHID 

know  something  of  Aleppo  Bracciolini,  and  per 
haps  out  of  sympathy  for  my  sorrow,  will  answer 
frankly  that  which  I  ask.  In  the  first  place  I  am 
very  unhappy  and  will  tell  you  a  secret  which  I 
have  breathed  to  no  other.  Why  I  am  so  bold 
with  a  stranger  I  do  not  know.  That  I  defy  all 
conventionality  I  am  well  aware;  that  I  act  against 
the  sound  judgment  of  my  two  true  friends,  Mr. 
Patrick  Regan  and  Mr.  Sallus  Smith,  I  am  also 
certain,  but  I  can  bear  this  pain  no  longer,  and  in 
my  extremity  I  appeal  to  you  whom  I  know, 
somehow,  can  help  me. 

"  I  give  you  my  sacred  confidence;  I  love  Aleppo 
Bracciolini  even  unto  death,  and  my  heart  will 
break  if  I  may  not  be  permitted  to  speak  with  him 
once  more.  I  ask  but  to  see  him  again,  once, 
only  once,  then,  forever  after,  till  life  on  earth  is 
done,  I  will  abide  alone.  Though  I  feel  that  I 
know  and  understand,  yet  would  I  verify  and  make 
sure.  Oh,  Mr.  Catus,  if  you  have  ever  loved,  be 
kind  to  me.  I  realize  that  you  are  a  man  of  great 
powers  and  a  thousand  resources;  help  me  !  I  have 
nowhere  else  to  turn;  am  shut  up  in  myself  alone. 

RHEA  NELLINO." 

While  reading  this  appeal,  Catus  turned  very 
white;  he  was  a  fair  visaged  person  as  a  rule,  but 
he  grew  fairer,  till  the  healthy  glow  of  his  face 
became  a  deathly  pallor.  He  read  it  again,  and 
again;  the  same  ghastly  expression  on  his  face; 
then,  rising  abruptly  left  the  room.  After  an 


QUICK  ACTION  285 

absence  of  two  hours,  he  returned  and  resumed  the 
pile  of  letters  so  suddenly  abandoned,  still  hav 
ing  the  pallid  look,  but  otherwise  quite  himself  . 
The  third  epistle  bore  the  peculiar  stamp,  which 
Catus  instantly  understood.  The  contents  were 
emphatic: 

"Meet  Bedouin  at  Cairo;  lose  no  time.  New 
move  about  to  be  made.  Act  quickly;  a  day's  delay 
fatal." 

Catus  closed  his  eyes  and  began  to  reckon.  This 
letter  had  come  from  Brindisi;  it  would  take  him 
some  time  to  get  back  to  Cairo;  he  knew,  however, 
that  all  had  been  considered,  and  that  if  he  started 
forthwith  there  would  be  no  mistake. 

So,  bringing  out  a  strong  box  from  the  closet,  he 
swept  the  table's  whole  burden  into  it,  save  the  last 
three  letters;  then,  turning  the  key,  he  restored 
the  safe  to  its  place  and  began  to  write.  To  Nita 
he  addressed  a  full  sheet,  enclosing  a  draft;  to  Rhea 
the  following  : 

"•Dear  Miss  N  el  lino  ; 

"  Take  heart;  your  instinct  is  correct;  your  intui 
tion  true.  Rest  on  this  for  the  present,  and  await 
word  from  me.  Yours, 

CATUS." 


To  the  third  correspondent,  after  the  date,  was 
simply  this  : 

"Will  start  to-day.  C.  C." 


286  EL  RESHID 

As  rapidly  as  steam  could  take  him,  Catus  trav 
elled  to  Cairo  and  proceeded  immediately  to  the 
great  pyramid  of  Khufu.  It  was  already  night, 
and  the  monster  tomb  shut  off  everything,  even 
the  sky.  It  seemed  to  encompass  him,  though  he 
stood  outside,  and  crush  him  with  its  mass  of  stone 
and  weight  of  years.  If  Catus  had  a  tendency  to 
brood,  he  put  a  check  upon  it  at  once,  and  allowed 
no  awe-inspiring  pile  of  matter  to  turn  him  an 
iota  from  the  object  upon  which  he  was  bent. 

This  power  to  annihilate  one  environment  and 
substitute  another,  is  the  gift  of  a  great  soul.  To 
turn  grandeur  into  the  commonplace,  or  the  small 
to  the  sublime,  is  a  hard  task,  but  Caesar  pulled  on 
the  reins  with  which  he  guided  himself,  and  jerked 
the  fiery  steed  of  his  imagination  till  he  had  it  in 
hand;  then  scrutinizing  along  the  shadow  at  the 
pyramid's  base,  he  skulked,  silently  like  a  thief, 
till  at  the  sharp  turn  of  one  of  the  angles  he  met 
a  tall,  draped  Bedouin,  who  addressed  him  in  a 
whisper,  speaking  but  one  word,  but  it  transfixed 
Catus  where  he  stood.  For  a  moment  there  was 
an  ominous  silence,  broken  later  by  Catus,  who 
gave  the  man  near  him  a  sign,  for  their  hands 
touched  and  parted ;  then  they  walked  out  from  the 
shadow  into  the  open,  where  the  majesty  and 
silence  of  the  desert  could  be  felt. 

"  I  must  go  with  you  to-night  ?  "  said  Catus. 

"  Immediately;  the  camels  are  ready;  the  Arabs 
waiting;  thou  shalt  eat  and  sleep  to-morrow." 


QUICK  ACTION  287 

"  Are  you  sure  you  are  prepared — armed,  ammu 
nition,  food  and  water  ?  " 

"All,"  said  the  Bedouin. 

' '  And  the  young  Master  ? ' '  said  Catus,  his 
voice  trembling. 

"  Great,"  came  back  the  solemn  voice  of  the  Bed 
ouin,  who  marched  straight  ahead,  with  long 
strides,  his  figure  erect,  while  his  flowing  robes 
gave  majesty  to  a  stature  far  above  that  of  the 
ordinary  man. 

"  How  know  you  this — what  sign?  " 

"  The  test,  too  hard  for  thee,  was  naught  to  him. 
Thou  hast  had  the  training  of  a  few  short  years; 
the  great  planet  Saturn  has  scarce  past  its  peri 
helion  and  returned  to  its  distant  companions  in 
space  since  thou  began. 

"And  he?"  said  Catus  anxiously. 

"  Ah!  "  said  the  Bedouin,  "seest  thou  that  sun  ? 
Already  he  understands  El  Reshid,  but  in  time,  El 
Reshid  will  gaze  upward  at  him,  as  thou  dost  at 
yon  dog  star. 

"  How  comes  it  that  one  so  young  has  attained 
so  great  a  height;  he  must  indeed  be  immature  and 
without  experience,"  urged  Catus. 

"  He  matured  long  since;  he  experienced  much 
in  another  life." 

A  silence  fell  between  the  two;  the  Bedouin 
marching  on  guided  by  instinct,  without  compass, 
track  or  chart,  while  Catus  walked  in  his  wake  in  a 
dream. 


288  EL  RESHID 

"And  Issachar?"  said  Catus  after  a  pause  of 
some  minutes." 

"  Issachar  is  naught  to  me." 

"  It  is  not  so  easy  to  count  him  out;  El  Reshid 
himself,  knows  this."  Catus  manifested  his  first 
impatience  since  leaving  Venice,  but  the  Bedouin 
deigned  no  answer  and  strode  ahead. 

In  less  than  an  hour  they  reached  an  Arab  camp 
where  camels  were  in  readiness  for  immediate 
departure.  Catus  was  hungry  and  very  tired, 
besides  this  there  was  a  worm  gnawing  at  his  heart. 
He  felt  himself  abused,  wronged;  he  had  worked 
hard  and  done  much  and  that  which  he  most  desired 
went  easily  to  another  who  seemed  to  do  nothing  at 
all.  But  below  all  this  surface  of  fretfulness  and 
fume  was  the  fixed  purpose  from  which  he  never 
swerved.  Reward,  punishment,  joy,  sorrow  were 
out  of  consideration  in  the  final  analysis.  So 
mounting  his  camel,  on  which  he  sat  familiarly,  he 
fell  into  file  and  wended  his  way  under  the  stars 
toward  the  spot  where  Aleppo  Romanes  watched  for 
his  coming  with  longing  eyes. 

It  was  late  the  next  day  ere  they  halted  before  a 
group  of  skin  tents  pitched  on  the  waste  of  L,ibya. 

Catus  alighted  from  his  camel  and  uncovering  his 
head  approached  the  largest  of  these ;  looking 
keenly  from  under  his  brows  for  some  sign  of 
Aleppo  whom  he  had  known  as  a  Bohemian  youth 
in  the  art  studio  in  Italy.  He  remembered  well  his 
ideal  face,  dark  hair,  and  innocence  of  expression, 


QUICK  ACTION  289 

the  like  of  which  is  seldom  beheld  in  a  man.  As 
he  drew  near  the  door  of  the  tent,  he  felt  that  there 
would  be  a  difference,  and  was  conscious  of  Aleppo 
even  before  he  appeared,  as  if  the  very  sands  could 
speak. 

The  Bedouin  had  passed  on  and  only  Caesar 
remained  to  greet  his  friend.  He  waited  but  a 
moment  when  the  young  man  appeared,  slighter 
and  less  robust  than  in  the  days  of  blessed  memory, 
yet  more  powerful  than  Catus  could  have  deemed 
possible.  He  stood  before  him  erect  and  thrilling, 
his  eyes  beaming  into  those  of  Catus,  brilliant  with 
pure  love,  though,  save  the  look,  he  made  no 
demonstration,  except  to  touch  his  head  and  his 
heart.  The  two  went  into  the  tent  and  what  was 
said  there,  none  but  themselves  will  ever  know. 
In  an  hour's  time  Catus  came  forth  and  went  straight 
to  the  quarters  of  the  Bedouin. 

"  At  what  time  do  we  start  to  night  ?  " 

"  At  two  o'clock."    . 

"  Give  me  food,"  said  Catus. 

An  Arab  appeared  immediately  with  a  substan 
tial  meal,  which  Catus  devoured  as  though  famished; 
then  turning  to  the  Bedouin  again, — "  I  must  rest. " 

A  skin  tent  was  spread  on  the  ground  upon 
which  Catus  threw  himself,  to  fall  immediately  to 
sleep. 

The  Bedouin  faced  the  Arab — "Be  ready,"  he 
said;  "  forget  nothing. "  Wake  this  man  on  the 
minute;  have  the  camels  at  hand;  put  thy  brother 


290  El*  RESHID 

on  guard;  walk  like  a  cat.  The  servants  of  Issachar 
suspect  nothing;  ^  travel  due  east;  halt  at  the  tomb 
of  the  sacred  bulls,  and  Allah  reward  thee." 

The  Arab  threw  a  quick  glance  at  the  Bedouin 
when  he  uttered  the  last  sentence,  never  before 
having  heard  him  refer  to  Allah;  but  he  said  nothing, 
and  silently  performed  the  task  assigned  him  with 
the  agility  of  a  monkey  and  the  suppleness  of  a  cat- 
At  the  time  designated,  to  the  minute,  he  touched 
the  sleeper  softly  with  his  velvety  hand;  Catus 
arose,  left  his  tent,  mounted  his  camel  without 
noise,  and  immediately  joined  the  rest  of  the  party 
who  were  waiting  near  by.  Upon  another  animal 
sat  Aleppo  Romanes,  equipped  for  a  long  ride. 
When  everything  was  in  readiness  the  ghostly 
caravan  wended  its  way  into  the  dark  of  night 
headed  due  east. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK. 

Catus  and  Aleppo  rode  side  by  side,  or  as  nearly 
so  as' the  camels  allowed,  exchanging  now  and  then 
a  word,  or  keeping  silent  as  circumstances  necessi 
tated.  They  had  before  them  but  a  twenty  hour's 
journey  to  Cairo,  as  the  tents  of  Issachar  had  lately 
been  pitched  nearer  civilization. 

As  soon  as  the  gray  light  of  dawn  stole  softly 
over  Lfibya,  Catus  came  close  to  Aleppo  and  placed 


ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK  291 

in  his  hands  a  letter.  The  young  man's  eyes  were 
strong  and  he  picked  out  the  writing,  Catus  watch 
ing  the  expression  on  his  face  while  he  read: — 

ILLUSION. 

We  see  men  hurrying  to  and  fro  like  gnats  in  the 
sunshine,  and  pronounce  judgment  with  cool  in 
difference.  They  are  six  feet  tall,  more  or  less,  and 
from  two  to  three  feet  broad,  going  and  coming  as 
though  each  were  dispatched  by  the  Absolute;  a 
walking  mass  of  skin  and  bone  and  sinew  and 
blood;  in  so-called  civilized  lands  subject  to  his 
tyrant — the  tailor;  in  Barbaria,  to  his  tyrant — the 
sun. 

And  we  call  this  six-foot  medley  of  flesh  and 
garment  an  entity;  this  stiff,  sharp  sliver  from  the 
"tree  of  life,"  a  universe;  this  conglomerate  of 
molecules,  darting  here  and  there  in  the  sunshine, 
an  immortal. 

We  see  him  falling  to  pieces  before  our  eyes  ;  we 
watch  the  elongated  hole,  as  the  sexton  plunges  his 
spade  into  earth;  we  behold  the  weeds  and  flowers 
upspringing  from  the  soil  of  his  vitals;  and  in  face 
of  this,  we  pronounce  him  eternal.  Whence  he 
came,  we  know  not;  whither  he  goeth,  we  wonder. 

He  crushes  the  little  beneath  his  feet,  while  the 
great  tramples  him  to  earth.  He  steals  from  the  uni 
verse  and  condenses  into  himself,  to  give  back  with 
absolute  exactness  that  which  he  purloined.  A 
shifting  phenomenon,  he  impresses  us  with  a  sense 


292 

of  stability,  till  we  take  him  for  a  fact,  in  spite  of 
the  sexton  and  the  spade. 

We  read  his  age  on  the  tomb-stone,  and  scorn 
fully  glance  at  the  angel  above  his  grave,  whose 
spread  wings  are  of  marble  which  the  ethers 
repudiate.  Yet  while  he  is  rotting,  and  the  worms 
are  feasting,  we  hear  his  voice  in  our  ears,  and  feel 
his  touch  on  our  cheeks. 

When  he  is  turned  into  ashes,  we  gather  the 
handful  of  dust,  WHICH  NO  FIRE  CAN  DES 
TROY,  and  store  it  away.  And  what  of  this  hand 
ful  of  dust — listen  !  the  six  feet  of  flesh — an 
illusion;  the  handful  of  dust — the  eternal. 

By  the  Unit  of  Force  stands  its  opposite — the 
finality  of  matter — the  ashes  that  fire  cannot  burn, 
nor  effort  destroy. 

Within  this  handful  of  dust,  energy  wakes  like  a 
whirlwind.  A  spiral,  it  fleeth  and  ga there th,  till  it 
grows  from  a  mite  to  a  mountain  of  sinew  and 
organs  and  bone — six  feet  of  illusion,  packed  and 
bedded  around  the  immortal — the  ashes — the  hand 
ful  of  fact,  that  no  fire  can  destroy. 

But  man,  with  the  blear  on  his  eyes,  sees  naught 
but  the  fiction;  he  builds  it  an  altar,  and  sits  at  its 
feet,  and  prays  at  its  tomb,  while  the  real  is  con 
cealed  out  of  sight,  like  the  scent  of  the  flower. 
It  evades,  it  is  subtle,  and  scorneth  the  fire. 

We  worship  the  fiction — the  flesh  and  the  blood; 
we  build  it  a  temple,  a  mosque;  we  paint  it  with 
colors,  and  stud  it  with  gems;  we  pour  our  wine  on 


ON  THE  CAMEX'S  BACK  293 

the  ground  at  its  feet;  with  ointment  and  spikenard 
we  deluge  its  head.  The  illusion  is  set  on  a  throne, 
while  fact — the  eternal,  is  hid  in  the  urn. 

But  listen  !  Even  change,  which  shifts  like  the 
beams  of  the  moon  on  the  lake,  even  change  is 
reality  masked,  a  chimera  of  law,  a  fiction  of  truth, 
an  enigma  of  unity,  budding  to  flower;  the  corolla 
and  scent  of  the  root  underground. 

Even  change,  translated  by  one  who  is  wise,  is  a 
verity,  stripped  of  the  false,  and  glittering  with 
gems.  'Tis  Isis  in  color — the  plumes  of  the 
peacock,  the  opal,  the  pearl,  the  gem  of  all  gems, 
the  Sirius  in  heaven — the  magnet  of  stars. 

******* 

But  man,  who  beholds  through  the  lashes  of  his 
eyes,  lives  and  dies  in  a  fatal  dream;  he  sacrifices  to 
the  down  of  the  peach,  forgetting  the  bitter  power 
of  the  stone;  he  worships  the  flower,  unaware  of 
the  root;  he  discovers  but  half  of  the  one,  and 
makes  of  the  whole  a  delusion. 

He  chisels  his  wings  out  of  marble,  and 
hammers  his  plumes  out  of  bronze;  he  imprisons  the 
ethereal  in  the  vault  of  the  base,  and  traps  his 
ideal  in  a  pit. 

To  the  wise,  the  illusion  lies  in  the  crescent,  when 
the  bulk  of  the  moon  is  concealed. 

******* 

Having  studied  the  paper  carefully,  Aleppo  stored 

it   away  in  a  secret  pocket   of  his  garment,  and 


294  EL  RESHID 

giving  Catus  a  confidential  glance,  faced  the  rising 
sun  which  appeared  suddenly  and  defied  his  steady 
eyes  that  dared  to  look  straight  at  its  heart. 

"  And  his  name  is  El  Reshid, "  said  Aleppo. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Catus,  "it  signifies  the  pasha 
—the  ruler — the  Master;  it  stands  for  power  over 
self  and  others;  the  first,  as  you  know,  implies  the 
last;  the  master  of  one's  self  has  to  a  degree  the 
control  of  others." 

"  If  all  individuals  were  self-mastered  there 
would  be  no  controlling  of  anybody,' '  said  Aleppo. 

"  True,  but  the  mass  of  people  have  approxi 
mately  no  self  control,  and  those  who  have,  rule 
others." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  self-mastery  ?"  asked 
Aleppo. 

"Having  one's  self  in  hand,  controlling  one's 
self." 

"  Ah  no,"  said  Aleppo;  "  use  no  more  the  word 
control,  but  substitute  the  word  guide;  the  Master 
guides  himself.  Is  there  a  man  on  earth  that  can 
hold  a  fiery  steed,  if  the  creature  determines  to  run  ? 
Tug  at  the  bit,  bring  your  whole  power  of  muscle 
and  will  to  bear,  it  is  nothing  to  the  mad  brute  that 
spurns  the  earth  and  drags  you  after  him.  So  with 
yourself,  in  reality  you  admit  no  Master;  even  self 
revolts  against  self — and  takes  the  bit  in  its  teeth 
and  runs — runs;  but  " — tossing  his  hair  and  smiling 
in  boyish  confidence,  "guide,  that  is  all,  and  let  self 
realize  its  full  speed,  no  matter  how  fast  it  goes, 


ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK  295 

nor  with  how  much  vim  and  rush  it  tears  along  the 
avenues  of  life,  if  it  keeps  out  of  the  ditches  and 
ruts;  guide — guide. 

"  How  queerly  so  much  learning  sets  on  your 
young  head;  already  you  wear  a  professor's  cap." 

"Learning  is  not  after  my  fancy,"  said  Aleppo. 
"  To  learn  is  to  accumulate.  I  would  rather  have 
a  vacant  room,  than  one  too  crowded.  There  is  an 
art  of  unknowing,  as  well  as  of  knowing;  of  getting 
rid  of,  as  well  as  of  acquiring.  Learning  is  a  rubbish 
unless  it  be  a  means  to  an  end.  The  learned  man 
is  seldom  wise;  he  is  pedantic,  narrow,  bigoted. 
A  wise  man  on  the  contrary  understands  people 
and  things,  more,  even  life  itself  and  its  meaning." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Catus,  "that  he  has  the 
Shakespearean  quality,  and  reads  human  nature  like 
an  open  book." 

' '  True  ;  he  is  one  with  his  environment  and 
enters  to  the  heart,  the  motive,  the  purpose  of 
things;  he  lives  the  life  of  each,  of  all;  he  grasps 
it  specially  and  generally;  he  is  everything — he  is 
it." 

"Will  you  tell  me"  said  Catus,  rather  rever 
ently  for  him,  "how  you  grew  suddenly  to  under 
stand  so  well;  I  can't  remember  that  in  Italy  you 
were  overburdened  with  wisdom. " 

"  Do  you  not  realize,"    answered  Aleppo,  "  that 

when  you  are  thrown  back  upon  pure  reason  that 

^you  get  a  revelation,  not  from  reasons  nor  reasoning, 

but  the  Reason.     Sometimes   one  may  be  stripped 


296  EL  RESHID 

so  naked  that  he  beholds  his  very  vitals — his  hear  "J~ 
palpitates  before  his  eyes,  his  skeleton,  sinews, 
muscles,  all  are  revealed.  He  has  no  garment  to 
cover  him,  nor  even  a  soft  padding  of  flesh,  he  is 
thin,  transparent,  the  interior  mechanism,  with  the 
reason  thereof  stares  him  in  the  face. 

"  Catus,  dear  old  teacher  of  Italy,  I  began  with 
out  parents,  country,  or  name,  and,  as  though  that 
were  not  poverty  enough,  whatever  of  love  and 
friendship  were  mine,  were  taken  also*.  At  last  I 
stood  outside  of  the  great  temple  of  Ammon, 
stripped  of  all,  and  then  there  flashed  over  me  a 
light,  as  dazzling  as  that  which  struck  St.  Paul  on 
the  way  to  Damascus;  in  the  glare  of  it  I  saw  the 
Reason,  the  meaning  of  myself.  Since  then  I  have 
thought  little  of  learning,  and  sought  wisdom, 
which  is  the  principal  thing." 

' '  I  would  that  I  might  have  such  an  experience, " 
said  Catus,  looking  aggrieved  and  anxious. 

"  The  causes  in  your  case  are  different.  To  find 
one  limit  you  must  be  driven  to  another;  an 
extreme  implies  its  opposite.  You  have  never  been 
cold  enough  to  worship  fire,  nor  hungry  enough  to 
gnaw  your  own  flesh;  you  have  never  been  so  alone 
that  you  made  two  of  yourself,  nor  so  frightened 
that  courage  was  your  last  resort.  I  went  to  the 
very  verge  of  fancy,  to  rebound  to  the  ultimate 
Fact.  I  soared  so  high  in  my  dream-balloon,  that 
when  it  burst,  I  plunged  like  a  falling  star,  clear 
into  the  bed-rock  of  earth.  I  had  become  such  a 


11 


ON   THE   CAMELS   BACK  297 

fool  that  wisdom  had  me  in  its  very  grip — the  youth 
and  the  sage  are  one.  The  Master  of  Syria  taught 
the  self-asserting  Jew  that  he  must  become  as  a 
little  child.  In  truth,  Catus,  I've  been  stripped  of 
my  self-conceit,  that  is  all." 

"And  I  have  not?" 

"No,  you  have  not,"  answered  Aleppo,  gazing 
with  great  love  on  his  friend,  "  but  you  have  vast 
powers." 

"  So  had  Romanes,"  said  Catus. 

"  Who  was  Romanes  ?  "  asked  Aleppo,  with  a 
start,  looking  keenly  from  under  his  broad  hat  at 
Catus. 

"Your  father." 

Aleppo  turned  very  white.  "  I  am  unworthy  of 
my  father  and  mother.  I  repudiated  them  both. 
Until  that  time  comes  that  I  deserve,  I  fear  to  know 
them." 

"  I  fail  to  understand  you,"  said  Catus. 

"  I  have  inwardly  hated  and  cursed  them,"  said 
Aleppo;  "first,  for  thrusting  a  life  of  isolation 
upon  me,  and  second,  for  casting  me  adrift." 

"  Are  you  still  in  the  same  mood?  " 

"  No,  Catus,  in  my  present  consciousness  of  life, 
things  and  ideas  conventional  mean  but  little.  I 
realize  that  at  the  very  source^of  my^stream  of 
existence  there  was  a  pure  and  sparkling  spring, 
stronger,  more  crystal — because -it  was  nature's 
own — than  the  muddy  fountain  of  most  individual 
" existences  doomed  to  live  and  die  on  earth.  I  have 


298  KL,  RESHID 

lately  learned  to  love  my  mother,  my  beautiful, 
beautiful  mother."  Aleppo  looked  earnestly  at 
Catus,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  ' ;  Do  you  know,  my 
friend,  I  believe  she  is  dead — I  feel  her  presence  at 
times,  as  though  she  touched  me.  She  used  to 
hate  me,  I  am  sure,  but  she  loves  me  now,  persis 
tently,  entirely.  I  believe  she  is  dead. " 

''  She  is,"  said  Catus. 

"  How  know  you  that  ?  " — he  turned  quickly. 

"So  said  Romanes." 

"Ah!" 

For  a  full  half-hour  they  rode  silently;  no  word 
was  spoken. 

"Caesar,"  said  Aleppo,  at  last,  "my  father — 
shall  I  yet  see  my  father  ? ' ' 

"  If  we  escape  this  accursed  Jew." 

"  I  fail  to  understand  you,"  said  Aleppo. 

"  Of  course  you  understand  that  you  were  kid 
napped  at  Karnak." 

"  No,  you  mistake;  I  went  with  Issachar  of  my 
own  free  will.  I  was  taken  ill  and  he  brought  me 
down  the  Nile  to  Cairo.  He  may  have  drugged  me, 
I  presume  that  he  did,  but  I  bad  agreed  to  go  with 
him  to  my  parents.  Afterward,  I  decided  to  do 
differently,  to  visit  Damascus,  and  he  objected, 
holding'me  to  my  original  proposition,  and  I  am 
simply  running  away.  I  had  a  horror  of  Issachar, 
but  it  has  gone;  he  has  been  kind  and  just  with 
me,  and  though  I  realise  that  the  love  of  power  is 


ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK  299 

the  prime  motive  'in  ^his  case,  yet  will  I  not  con 
demn  him  unfairly." 

"  May  it  not  be  money?  "  said  Catus. 

"  In  that  you  mistake  him  again,"  said  Aleppo; 
"  money  with  him  is  a  means  to  an  end;  nor  is  he 
a  miser.  Power  over  circumstances  and  men,  is 
his  aim — and  revenge,  perhaps,  his  object." 

"I  take  issue  with  you.  Issachar  is  a  black 
magician." 

"  Nevertheless,"  answered  Aleppo,  "  if  power  is 
at  the  base  of  white  magic,  it  must  be  at  the  bot 
tom  of  black  also.  Even  the  word  magic  is  a  mis 
nomer  to  all  save  the  ignorant." 

They  halted  for  breakfast.  It  was  quickly 
over;  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  Once  mounted 
and  moving  again,  they  renewed  their  conversation. 

"  If  we  succeed  in  getting  to  Damascus  you  will 
sit  at  the  feet  of  El  Reshid,"  said  Catus. 

"  Caesar,  you  have  had  a  good  teacher," — Aleppo 
beamed  on  him  with  one  of  his  fascinating  smiles 
— ''  but,  after  all,  one  can  help  another  but  little. 
Experience  is  the  schoolmaster  and  nature  is  the 
mother  Mahatma  in  whose  lap  we  sit." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  Aleppo,  but  everybody 
is  experiencing — everybody,  not  a  soul  escapes  ;  if 
not  in  one  way,  he  gets  his  training  in  another  ; 
yet,  there  are  but  few  Masters." 

"  In  that  you  are  right.  The  teacher  gives  you 
the  first  few  rules  in  arithmetic,  and  you  work  out 
the  problems  for  yourself.  A  master  knows  the  for- 


300  EL  RESHID 

mulas,  which  are  the  result  of  empiricism  ;  the 
novice  practices  by  them,  and  possibly  discovers 
another  receipt  for  himself.  The  teacher  is  neces 
sary,  but  in  time  he  goes  his  way;  experimental 
knowledge,  however,  is  yours  while  life  lasts." 

"  Still  you  will  go  to  El  Reshid." 

"  Still  will  I  go  to  El  Reshid.  I  am  young — but 
a  boy;  my  experience  has  been  but  slight,  and  in 
much,  negative;  in  all  save  determination  and  a 
consciousness  of  my  true  self,  T  am  as  ignorant  as 
a  child  just  learning  to  walk.  Ah!  when  first  I 
catch  sight  of  the  domes  and  minarets  of  Damas 
cus;  when  I  scent  the  flower-breath  of  Syria,  and 
walk  by  the  side  of  El  Reshid,  I  shall  feel  the  joy 
of  one  who  talks  with  a  Master  and  holds  council 
with  a  god." 

' '  How  do  you  know  all  this ;  no  one  has  told 
you?  " 

"From  the  touch  of  his  letters,  from  the  impulse, 
the  power.  Have  you  ever  beheld  El  Reshid  ?  " 

"Yes,  once,  but  you  will  be  disappointed  ;  he  is 
but  a  simple  man,  even  smaller  in  stature  than 
yourself.  You  doubtless  expect  to  meet  an  aged, 
long-bearded  doctor  of  theology,  or  psychology, 
or  religion.  El  Reshid  is  nothing  of  the  sort;  he 
is  a  person  of  affairs — a  man  among  men;  he  dis 
dains  the  robe  of  a  priest  and  dons  that  of  a  civil 
ian  ;  nor  does  he  drip  sanctity  from  his  finger-tips, 
nor  is  he  unctuous,  nor  sophomorically  religious, 
nor  professional.  Altogether,  I  presume  you  have 


ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK:  301 

built  a  man  of  straw,  that  will  tumble  when  you 
look  at  him." 

At  this,  Aleppo  laughed — they  both  laughed. 
"  Hast  thou  known  me  so  long,  to  treat  me  thus?  " 
said  Aleppo,  with  a  grandiloquent  air.  "Surely, 
thou  dreamest  not  that  I  seek  a  Parsee  priest,  or  a 
Dominican  monk.  After  that  which  I  have  said  to 
thee  to-day,  thou  must  be  mad — but  look!  " 

Both  men  stared  eastward,  over  the  desert. 

"  Is  it  a  caravan  ?  "  said  Catus. 

"  I  think  not,"  Aleppo  answered;  "  there  seem 
to  be  many  horses;  they  travel  faster  than  our 
camels." 

"  Halt!  "  shouted  Catus,  bringing  the  five  Arabs 
of  their  party,  with  their  animals,  to  a  sudden 
standstill .  "To  arms ! ' ' 

Each  man  of  them  scrutinized  his  revolver,  and 
glanced  along  the  edge  of  his  knife. 

"  I  would  that  the  Bedouin  were  with  us,"  said 
Catus. 

"And  I." 

"  I  am  ignorant  in  this  business;  are  you  sure 
that  these  Arabs  are  faithful  ?  " 

"Hardly,"  said  Aleppo,  "the  Bedouin  was  an 
enemy  in  Issachar's  camp,  but  it  is  hard  to  fix  an 
Arab— Ah!" 

' '  Do  you  not  see  the  stately  form  of  Issachar  ?  With 
what  dignity  he  sits  astride  his  horse  !  though  I  fail 
as  yet  to  discern  his  features,  about  that  figure  I 
have  no  doubt. ' ' 


302  EL  RESHID 

"  The  devil's  to  pay  !  "  said  Catus  between  his 
teeth,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  viciously 
biting  off  its  end. 

"  Even  if  these  five  Arabs  are  loyal  and  true  they 
will  be  as  nothing  against  twenty  mounted  men," 
said  Aleppo.  "  Issachar  will  take  me  by  force,  but 
have  no  fear,  Catus,  for  sometimes  the  weak  get  the 
better  of  the  strong." 

They  were  coming  nearer.  The  five  Arabs  grew 
restless  and  exchanged  glances,  showing  a  woeful 
lack  of  courage  and  determination.  In  a  short  time 
the  mounted  men  with  the  Jew  leading  rode  along 
beside  the  small  caravan  that  made  no  resistance 
whatever.  "The  faithful "  had  given  the  lie  to  the 
appellation  and  neither  used  their  revolvers  nor 
knives. 

"  Shall  I  shoot  him  down  ? ' '  said  Catus  to  Aleppo 
as  Issachar  rode  toward  them. 

"  For  the  love  of  El  Reshid,  no!  what  could  you 
gain  ?  Those  Arabs  would  tear  us  to  pieces;  our 
camels  are  but  slow  beasts." 

Never  had  Issachar  appeared  so  superb.  On  a 
magnificerit  Arabian  horse  which  he  completely 
held  in  check,  his  outer  robe  abandoned,  and  his 
closely  fitting  undergarments  exposing  his  match 
less  physique,  his  eyes  glittering  with  mockery,  his 
teeth  all  displayed,  he  glanced  over  the  pitiful  array 
of  humpy  camels  and  shriveled  Arabs,  with  the 
imperial  gaze  of  a  conquerer,  who  designs  no  ex 
planation  and  offers  no  excuse. 


ON  THE  CAMEL'S  BACK  303 

"  Well  "  said  Catus  sneeringly. 

' '  Well, ' '  came  the  reply  with  that  ineffable  smile. 

' '  What  would  you  have  ?  ' ' 

"Aleppo  Romanes." 

1 '  How  did  you  track  us, ' '  said  Catus  bitter  with 
impatience,  at  the  same  time  throwing  away  his 
cigar  and  cocking  his  revolver. 

"  Trust  Issachar  for  that;  the  bird  needs  no  chart 
nor  compass  to  cross  the  ocean;  the  bee  can  find  its 
hive." 

"  Let  me  deal  with  him,  "said  Aleppo  dismount 
ing;  "  So  you  would  take  me  again." 

"I  would,"  said  the  Jew;  "did  I  not  bargain  to 
deliver  thee  to  thy  father  ?  Issachar  never  breaks 
his  word." 

"And  did  I  not  inform  you,"  answered  Aleppo 
looking  him  full  in  the  eyes,  "  that  I  desired  first 
to  go  to  Damascus;  am  I  not  a  man  of  age  ?  " 

"  Thy  birthday  is  of  little  account  to  me — 
mount !  ' ' 

"  A  revolver  was  fired  into  the  air  as  a  signal, 
and  Catus  seized  from  behind  and  disarmed;  then 
Aleppo  was  lifted  into  the  saddle  of  a  pawing, 
foaming-mouthed  Arabian  horse  and  lashed  to  its 
back;  his  arms  being  taken  from  him  and  his  hands 
tied.  The  five  Arabs  in  the  meantime  had  yielded 
their  pistols  and  knives  with  a  willingness  too  sug 
gestive  to  be  misunderstood.  Then  the  Jew  turned 
to  Caesar  Catus,  who  had  lost  his  temper  and  was 
white  with  rage. 


304  BI<  RESHID 

"I  have  no  need  of  thee;  proceed  to  Cairo;  these 
Arabs  are  safe  guides.  Report  to  the  authorities, 
set  the  hounds  of  Egypt  on  my  track,  yet  Issachar 
thou  wilt  not  find.  March  on  !  " 

But  Catus  shouted  over  his  shoulder  as  they  rode 
away — "A  hound  there  is  that  will  be  one  too 
many  for  you;  even  Satan  fears  El  Reshid." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
A  GRIP  ON  SELF. 

O  moon  !  if  but  my  heart  were  cold  like  thine, 
If  all  my  glow  were  but  reflected  light, 
If  icy  heights  were  only  mine,  ah  mine  ! 
How  calmly  would  I  gaze  on  thee  to-night. 

Rhea  watched  the  full  orb  ascend  the  wondrous 
blue  of  an  Egyptian  sky,  and  longed  for  the  cold, 
the  death,  the  calm  of  the  moon,  when  desire 
should  turn  to  ashes  and  the  hot  passion  of  the  soul 
to  ice.  She  strove  to  forget  Aleppo,  but  found  it 
as  impossible  as  to  annihilate  self;  he  was  the 
Response  of  which  she  had  always  been  conscious 
even  when  she  knew  him  by  no  name  nor  person. 
Alas,  it  was  still  the  same — she  felt  him,  she 
realized,  yet  with  a  difference.  He  had  gone  away 
out  of  the  path  in  which  she  traveled  to  another 
where  she  longed  to  follow,  but  in  vain. 

They  had  left  the  great  hotel  and  taken  a  little 
house  where  Mrs.  Hancock  was  more  content. 


A  GRIP  ON  SKIvF  305 

Rhea  had  come  out  to  the  veranda  on  this  wonder 
ful  night,  and,  like  a  rare,  cold  wraith  with  folded 
hands,  she  sat  under  the  flood  of  lunar  glory,  all 
her  anguish  condensed  and  glowing  in  her  eyes. 

A  young  man  came  rapidly  toward  her  up  the 
path  of  the  yard,  and  removed  his  hat.  In  the 
vague  light  she  failed  at  first  to  recognize  him, 
then  with  a  quick  throb  of  the  blood,  knew  it  to  be 
Caesar  Catus.  She  gave  him  both  hands,  then 
offered  him  a  chair  by  her  side,  and  waited,  breath 
less. 

If  Rhea  had  been  beautiful  as  a  "giddy  girl," 
she  was  more  tantalizing  and  distracting  now. 

A  woman  thrilled  by  a  grand  passion,  touched 
by  the  finger  of  destiny,  doomed  to  tragedy,  is 
bound  by  the  very  nature  of  herself  to  intoxicate 
and  enthral  others — She  is  a  consuming  fire  and 
the  sparks  fly;  she  is  a  still  frenzy  that  sends  its 
vibration  to  the  depths  of  man's  soul. 

At  the  touch  of  her  hand  Caesar  temporarily  for 
got  his  errand,  was  false  to  Aleppo,  and  repudiated 
the  Order.  As  their  eyes  met  he  seemed  to  see  the 
river  Lethe  flowing,  winding,  coiling,  in  that  calm 
shadowy  elysium  where  death  claims  its  phantom 
bride.  She  was  consuming  herself  and  he  longed 
to  plunge  into  the  flame. 

The  dangerous  charm  of  such  women  as  Rhea  is 
more  often  felt  than  acknowledged.  It  is  subtle, 
beyond  analysis;  and  has  its  bases  in  the  pure 
passion  of  soul  which  knows  no  outlet  through  the 


306  EL  RESHID 

channel  of  the  gross;  it  is  the  fiery  heat  of  the 
heart's  center  thrown  off  through  the  glance  and 
touch;  it  is  the  extreme  of  feeling  that  in  its  re 
action  has  power  to  harden  to  ice. 

Catus  should  never  have  seen  nor  approached 
her,  for  to  him  she  was  dangerous.  With  the  demi 
monde  he  associated  freely,  striving  to  help  and 
reform;  and  came  and  went  among  them  as  un 
sullied  as  a  Christ.  But  this  living  poem,  Rhea, 
chaste  as  snow,  yet  paradox  of  paradox,  burning 
with  the  inextinguishable  fire  of  Vesta,  was  over 
whelming  to  the  heart  of  Catus.  When  first  he  saw 
her,  he  fell  in  love,  and  since,  for  months  he  dreamed 
and  hoped,  till  that  bitter  day  in  Venice,  when  she 
told  him  by  letter  the  little  secret  that  well  nigh 
broke  his  heart.  But  Catus  was  a  man  of  many 
sides — a  diamond  that  flashed  in  all  tints;  he  lived 
numerous  lives,  and  traversed  star  after  star  where 
Eve  was  not. 

The  two,  Caesar  and  Aleppo,  had  never  men 
tioned  Rhea  to  each  other.  It  is  the  habit  of  men 
of  fine  feeling  to  keep  silence  on  such  subjects, 
deeming  them  sacred. 

Catus  had  come  to  Rhea  to  tell  her  of  her  lover, 
to  answer  her  letter  in  person,  to  put  himself  to  the 
test,  and  here  he  was  by  her  side  in  the  glamour  of 
the  moon,  beneath  the  trellis  of  roses,  gazing  into 
her  fathomless  eyes.  For  the  time  being,  she  was 
his;  Aleppo  was  lost,  perhaps  dead,  why  not  tell 
her  so,  and  catch  the  bird  with  broken  wings  as  it 


A  GRIP  ON  SELF  307 

fell ;  for  comfort  she  would  lean  on  him — his  breast ; 
O  bliss  !  •  To  gaze  and  gaze  into  her  eyes,  to  read 
and  feel  her  soul  day  after  day — away  philosophy; 
farewell  reason  !  adieu  sweet  dream  of  Damascus, 
and  the  white  peak  of  Olympus  !  A  frenzy  of 
passion,  a  burning  look,  a  kiss,  outweighs  them  all  ! 

But  above  this  seething  volcano  of  his  heart  sat 
loyalty  enthroned.  He  had  a  friend,  Aleppo 
Romanes,  a  friend ;  he  had  stood  once  in  the 
presence  of  El  Reshid,  and  more,  he  had  sworn 
fealty  to  truth.  He  turned  his  eyes  from  Rhea  to 
the  cold  moon — a  man  sometimes  does  in  a  moment 
the  work  of  years; — he  fixed  his  gaze  in  despera 
tion  on  the  lunar  peaks,  lofty,  frozen,  rigid,  and 
became  like  unto  them.  Rhea  felt  the  chill  and  drew 
herself  away;  half  frightened  she  turned  her  glance 
from  Catus  and  fixed  it  on  a  withered  rose. 

"Miss  Neiliuo,  I  have  lately  seen  Aleppo 
Romanes." 

She  trembled,  but  said  nothing. 

"He  was  taken  by  Jacob  Issachar,  a  Jew,  and 
concealed  on  the  desert;  rescued,  a  few  days  ago, 
by  a  Bedouin  and  myself,  to  be  captured  again 
some  miles  out  from  Cairo." 

He  related,  in  a  cold  business  voice,  what 
he  knew  of  the  lover  of  Rhea  up  to  the  day 
that  Issachar  had  retaken  him.  And  all  the 
time  that  he  talked  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  lunar  peaks,  knowing  that  this  rebound  in 
himself  was  only  temporary,  and  that,  later,  he 


308  EL  RESHID 

would  have  a  battle  to  fight.  To  Rhea  he  seemed 
unsympathetic,  unkind;  in  a  sense  she  was  indig 
nant.  Strange,  too,  the  history  of  Aleppo  in  no  way 
surprised  her;  it  was  as  she  had  supposed,  even  to 
his  desire  to  go  to  Damascus,  and  was  but  a  con 
firmation  of  the  profound  intuition,  from  which  her 
sorrow  had  sprung. 

Caesar  wondered  if,  after  all,  her  love  for  Aleppo 
was  but  shallow,  she  seemed  so  little  impressed  by 
the  tale  he  had  told. 

"  Mr.  Catus," — she  was  rigid,  like  a  statue— 
"does  Mr.  Bracciolini  propose  to  join  some  mystic 
order  and  devote  his  life  and  energy  to  the  same  ?  ' ' 

"  He  has  never  so  stated  to  me. " 

"  Why,  then,  does  he  seek  the  instructions  of 
one  whom  you  call  El  Reshid,  and  fly  from  his 
friends  and  me  ?  ' ' 

"  I  suppose,  said  Catus,  "  he  feels  that  the  reve 
lation  made  to  him  by  Issachar,  at  Karnak,  has  cut 
him  off  irotn  the  world  of  conventional  love  and 
friendship,  and  forced  him  to  philosophy." 

' '  Issachar  did  not  abduct  him  ?  ' ' 

"  So  Aleppo  stated;  but  there  is  no  doubt  about 
the  second  taking  off,  it  was  a  capture." 

' '  When  he  was  here,  Mr.  Catus,  at  the  house  of 
the  Jew,  why  did  you  not  call  the  authorities  and 
release  Aleppo  ?"  said  Rhea,  severely. 

' '  I  was  uncertain  whether  he  were  here  or  not ; 
I  had  a  suspicion  that  he  might  be,  from  some  facts 
that  I  had  gathered,  so  I  called  at  Issachar 's  shop 


A  GRIP  ON  SELF  309 

and  met  Spino.  The  old  housekeeper  informed 
me  that  a  young  man  was  above  stairs.  From  her 
description  of  him  I  felt  quite  certain  that  it  was 
he;  then  I  went  off,  to  return  later,  with  a  detec 
tive  and  officers  in  wake,  but  the  woman  announced 
that  Issachar  and  his  prisoner  had  departed.  I 
instituted  a  private  search  in  my  own  way,  and 
later,  through  the  help  of  others,  with  whom  I 
associated,  discovered  his  whereabouts.  The  Bed 
ouin  in  charge  of  Issachar 's  tents  is  a  spy  in  his 
camp  and  a  friend  of  my  own;  whether  Issachar 
knows  this  or  not  no  one  can  tell  ;  Issachar 's  inner 
most  thoughts  are  a  sealed  book,  and  his  character 
also,  for  that  matter."  There  was  a  long  pause; 
Rhea  said  nothing  and  Catus  looked  at  the  moon, 
finally  Rhea  broke  the  silence  with  this  startling 
question — 

"  When  can  I  see  Aleppo  ?  ' ' 

"  That  is  hard  to  answer,  Miss  Nellino.  I  have 
no  idea  where  the  Jew  has  concealed  him,  nor 
whether  we  are  more  than  a  match  for  Issachar.  I 
shall  let  you  know  everything,  however." 

Catus  has  kept  a  good  grip  on  himself  thus  far, 
but  the  strain  was  telling.  To  stand  by  this  beau 
tiful  sufferer  and  freeze  her,  because  he  dare  not  do 
otherwise  for  fear  of  himself,  was  a  cruelty  too 
refined,  even  for  a  man  of  his  nerve.  He  could 
bear  his  own  pain,  but  to  witness  hers  also,  con 
scious  that  she  misunderstood  and  accused  him,  was 
a  test  that  he  felt  he  had  better  dispense  with.  He 


310  EL  RESHID 

knew  himself  well;  should  he  condole  with  her. 
love  would  speak  from  his  eyes,  his  whole  being 
would  betray  it;  he  rose  quickly — 

"  Miss  Nellino,  everything  will  be  done  to  rescue 
Aleppo,  by  those  most  interested.  Issachar  is  pow 
erful,  yet  I  believe  there  are  others  more  so.  Be 
assured  that  I  shall  send  you  whatever  encourag 
ing  news  we  get,  good-night." 

He  had  gone.  Rhea's  misery  lay,  not  so  much 
in  the  personal  absence  of  her  lover,  as  in  her 
struggle  with  herself;  she  suffered  also  from  the 
apparent  indifference  of  Catus.  The  souls  of  most 
men  she  read  quickly,  but  here  was  a  sphinx.  That 
he  loved  her,  she  never  dreamed;  that  he  was  cold 
and  unkind  there  was  no  denying;  the  origin  of 
this  apparent  iciness  puzzled  her  also.  Was  it  but 
seeming — did  he  wear  a  mask  ? 

In  her  generally  confused  state  she  stood  dazed, 
before  the  great  problem  of  love  and  life,  power 
less  to  summon  her  reason  or  subdue  her  passion, 
yet,  in  all  this  medley  and  incoherence,  she  was  con 
scious  that  she  and  Aleppo  loved  eternally,  and 
were  parted  fatally. 

"If  I  were  to  die,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  is 
possible  that  we  might  meet — but  this  living — 
living!  "  The  thought  stiuck  her  fancy— "  if  I 
were  to  die — even  though  I  prayed  to  Aleppo,  even 
though  I  forced  him  to  remain  near,  he  would  be 
wretched  for  my  sake;  though  I  cared  not  a  whit 
for  family  or  name,  he  would  care.  I  am  not  good, 


311 

like  Aleppo;  the  spritual  heights  are  too  far.  No 
power  can  keep  me  from  him  in  thought,  memory, 
love — but  oh ,  to  touch  his  hand !  For  your  whole 
life,  Rhea  Nellino,  you  are  widowed — your  hus 
band  is  in  heaven  and  you  wear  black.  The  years 
are  so  many.  Oh,  God!  is  it  wrong  to  take  one's 
life  ?  " 

"  Yes,  said  a  strange  voice,  apparently  at  her 
side.  She  turned  quickly,  there  was  no  one  near  ; 
the  veranda  was  empty,  save  the  chairs. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  whisper;  but 
there  came  no  answer,  and  everywhere  was  still 
ness,  like  the  grave.  She  was  shocked  to  the  center 
of  herself,  and  clung  to  the  rail  for  support;  her 
face  white  as  the  dead,  her  tragic,  frightened  eyes 
glowing  like  twin  stars;  then  a  strange  thing 
happened;  clairvoyantly,  like  a  memory,  there 
appeared  on  her  mental  horizon  the  form  of  a  man; 
it  was  an  interior  picture,  and  to  get  it  better,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands;  his  intense  eyes 
weie  fixed  on  her,  as  though  to  hold,  in  their  fires, 
her  very  soul,  and  under  their  persistent  gaze  she 
grew  serene,  as  if  she  had  become  himself,  and 
viewed  all  things  with  his  far-seeing  glance.  A 
smile  stole  over  her  lips  as  she  thought  of  the 
coming  years — "  so  few"  he  seemed  to  say,  "so 
few!"  What  he  thought,  she  thought;  what  he 
felt,  she  felt;  and  then,  in  the  depths  of  her  con 
sciousness  she  realized  El  Reshid,  who  had  com 
manded  the  surging  flow  of  her  soul  to  subside; 


312  EL,  RESHID 

who  had  transformed  the  muse  of  tragedy  to  a 
patron  saint  of  song;  who  had  brought  harmony 
out  of  chaos,  and  life  out  of  death. 

She  neither  reasoned  nor  questioned;  the  heathen 
had  found  her  idol,  the  Pagan  her  sacred  shrine. 

How  he  had  impressed  her,  how  he  had  reached 
her,  she  had  no  idea;  whether  by  mind's  subtlety, 
which,  being  the  opposite  of  matter,  works  by 
reverse  laws,  whether  by  pure  will,  or  inexplicable 
sympathy  she  knew  not.  He  had  come — the  sun 
had  flashed  on  the  night — and  lo,  the  day ! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
THE  CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES. 

"  I  believe  in  the  tower  of  Babel,"  said  Regan. 

"  Why?  "  asked  Sallus  who  had  settled  himself 
for  a  comfortable  evening  in  his  den. 

"  Because  the  confusion  of  tongues  must  have 
started  somewhere,  and  Babel  was  as  good  a  place 
as  any." 

They  were  living  together  in  Sallus'  room 
opposite  to  the  house  of  Issachar;  had  spent  a 
whole  day  in  fixing  it  up,  and  it  was  literally  loaded 
with  bazaar  wares  picked  out  in  a  hurry.  The 
place  was  an  improvisation — a  sort  of  four-handed 
duet  in  which  Sallus  and  Regan  took  part. 

The  flies  had  been  driven  out,  screens  placed  in 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES  313 

the  windows,  and  the  floor  covered  with  oriental 
-rugs,  while  a  couple  of  divans  were  so  arranged 
that  they  answered  both  for  night  and  day.  They 
had  a  coffee  pot,  an  alcohol  lamp,  Turkish  candies 
and  bon  bons;  altogether  between  the  two  they 
made  a  cozy  place  of  it,  and  chumming  as  they  did, 
were  devoted  to  each  other.  Sallus  continued  to 
look  upon  Regan  as  the  greatest  of  philosophers 
and  drew  him  out  on  all  occasions. 

"No  matter  what  kind  of  a  study  you  take  up," 
went  on  Regan,  "  you  are  pestered  to  death  with 
long  names;  if  it's  botany  your  memory  is  punished 
with  L,eontodon,  Taraxacum,  Sarothamnus,  Scopa- 
rarius,  Janipha,  Manihot,  etc.,  as  though  corolla 
and  pistils  and  stamen  were  not  slanderous  enough 
without  blaspheming  flowers  and  plants  in  that 
way.  If  you  tackle  biology  you  make  your  evolu 
tion  even  uglier  than  it  ought  to  be  by  disgracing 
the  process  with  kinetogenesis,  Brachiopoda,  Cin- 
cinulus,  and  lots  more.  The  heavens  have  to  suffer 
too;  astronomy  gets  in  its  S-Z-N-3 — S-3-P-N-Z. 
But  psychology  gives  us  the  biggest  dose,  especially 
when  it  goes  around  in  guise  of  mental  science, 
magnetic  healing  and  oriental  occidentalism  ; 
under  that  latter  we  have  Sanskrit  words  that  make 
our  jaws  ache — regular  mouthfuls.  I  tell  you  Sal 
the  tower  of  Babel  was  no  joke.  For  my  part  I 
can't  imagine  what  sort  of  a  teacher  'twould  be  who 
would  come  out  and  talk  plain  English,  just  speak 
like  other  people  without  a  sprinkling  of  scientific 


314  EL  RESHID 

terms,  or  Hindu  provincialism,  or  Arabian  dialect,  to 
say  nothing  of  Pali.  Wisdom  looks  mighty  absurd 
spouting  such  ear-splitting  syllables;  in  fact  I  some 
times  doubt  if  it  is  wisdom  at  all  that  does  it. 
Besides  there's  the  ranting,  as  if  a  man  was  obliged 
to  lengthen  his  face  an  inch  or  more,  and  assume  a 
punctilious  drawl  whenever  he  talks  on  religion,  or 
life  after  death;  the  air  doesn't  need  sawing  as  I 
know  of,  when  salvation's  talked  about,  or  hell. 
What  on  earth  a  man  rises  on  his  toes  for,  to  sink 
on  his  heels,  when  he  speaks  in  the  vernacular  of 
the  saints,  is  beyond  me.  Sanctimoniousness  goes 
along  with  preachers  as  smiles  do  with  pretty 
women,  they  study  for  it  I  tell  you  my  boy,  both  of 
them;  they  train  their  voices  to  oiliness  and  unc- 
tuousness  just  as  women  teach  themselves  to 
laugh." 

"  That's  the  gospel  truth,"  said  Sallus. 

"  Sure,"  went  on  Regan,  "  once  in  a  while  there's 
an  exception  though,  and  to  that  blessed  exception 
I  take  off  my  hat — always;  he's  as  refreshing  as  a 
thunder  shower  that  means  business.  When  a  man 
speaks  plain  English  or  French  or  anything,  I  don't 
care  whether  he's  biologist,  psychologist,  archaeolo 
gist,  physiologist,  to  say  nothing  of  religionist,  I 
believe  in  that  fellow  and  feel  pretty  certain  that  he's 
in  dead  earnest.  Words  ought  to  be  fired  at  you  like 
bullets;  'twould  be  a  mighty  smart  man  though,  that 
could  shoot  one  of  those  Sanskrit  jaw  breakers  so 
'twould  hit  anywhere.  Science  makes  a  fool  of  itself, 


THE  CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES  315 

too;  when  a  man  gets  stuck  on  a  problem  and  don't 
know  where  he's  at,  whether  it's  the  germ  theory 
or  some  other,  he  just  fills  his  mouth  up  with  big 
words  and  spews  them  at  you;  when  they  are  so 
almighty  large  that  they  can't  find  entrance,  he  just 
crawls  into  them,  and  when  he's  hard  put,  they're 
a  regular  place  of  refuge.  I  tell  you  that  sort  of  a 
person  thinks  he's  smart,  and  hfe  is  too,  after  a 
fashion;  he  deludes  nine  people  out  of  ten  every - 
time,  impressing  them  so  that  they  hold  their 
breath  and  inwardly  curse  themselves  for  ignor 
amuses.  Talk  about  swearing,  it  is  nothing,  my 
boy,  nothing  to  this  sort  of  blasphemy." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,"  said 
Sallus. 

"That's  the  fix  I'm  in,  I  don't  know;  if  ever  I 
find  a  fellow  though,  that  can  cut  off  a  word  in 
regular  staccato,  I'll  build  a  big  hall  and  set  him 
going. — Come  in  !  " 

The  door  opened,  and  Caesar  Catus  entered. 
Both  Sallus  and  Regan  received  him  very  coldly, 
neither  bidding  him  welcome  nor  offering  him  a 
chair.  Caesar  paid  no  attention  to  the  breach  of 
courtesy,  but  to  the  inward  admiration  of  Regan, 
used  but  few  words  and  went  straight  to  the  point. 

"  I've  come  to  rid  your  mind  of  suspicion,  and  to 
set  myself  in  the  right  light  before  you,  for  I  need 
your  help." 

"Well?"  said  Regan,  tersely. 

' '  You  have  been  led  to  believe  that  I  am  hand 


316  BI,  RESHID 

and  glove  with  the  Jew — Jacob  Issachar;  you  are 
mistaken.  I  discovered  and  rescued  Bracciolini, 
to  lose  him  again  near  Cairo." 

There  !"  said  Regan,  turning  triumphantly  to 
Sallus,  "I  told  you  so!"  Then  both  men  rushed 
at  Catus,  each  grabbing  a  hand;  he  was  not  in  an 
effusive  humor,  however,  nor  would  he  sit  down, 
but  stood  near  the  door,  as  though  ready  to  depart. 

"There's  no  use  in  your  staying  here  to  watch 
for  Issachat;  he  will  not  return,  at  least,  while  we 
three  are  in  Cairo.  He'll  get  to  Constantinople, 
if  I'm  not  mistaken,  and  hide  young  Romanes  in 
the  canine  capital.  You  know  Stamboul,  go  back 
there  and  hound  him  down." 

' '  Done  !  ' '  said  Regan. 

"  Get  off  as  soon  as  possible;  ten  to  one  he'll 
beat  us  again.  I  confess  I'm  no  match  for  him." 

"Will  you  go  with  us,  Mr.  Catus?"  asked 
Salius." 

"No;  I  have  other  work,  but  it  bears  on  the 
same  thing.  Start  to-morrow  or  next  day;  simply 
follow  your  own  instincts.  You  know  as  much  as  I 
do,  except  that  I  am  confident  that  he  is  on  the  way 
to  the  Bosporus."  He  took  out  a  cigar  and 
lighted  it  at  Regan's  lamp,  then,  refusing  their 
pressing  invitation  to  stay  longer,  after  telling  them 
a  few  of  the  particulars  about  Aleppo's  life  on  the 
desert,  hurried  off,  saying  that  time  was  precious 
and  he  had  much  to  do. 

"Biz — at  last,"  said  Regan, 


THE    CONFUSION  OF  TONGUES  317 

"  I  should  smile,"  answered  Sallus.  Both  men 
were  excited  aud  delighted.  Suddenly,  Sallus, 
who  was  pacing  the  floor,  brought  up  with  a 
round  turn.  "How  about  Spino  and  Cicily?  " 

"Great  Scott!  said  Regan,  under  his  breath, 
"  have  I  come  to  that  ? ' ' 

"What?" 

"Eloping  with  Spino." 

"Not  necessarily," — Sallus  looked  uneasy  and 
worried.  "  I'm  not  quite  sure  of  either  of  them, 
but  I'll  give  that  girl  a  fair  trial  if  I  know  myself." 

"If  we  spirit  them  away,"  answered  Regan, 
"  Issachar  will  find  it  out  and  take  his  revenge  on 
Aleppo;  "  'twont  do;  hands  off  those  women  till 
that  boy  of  ours  is  found." 

' '  Shake, ' '  said  Sallus,  loyal  unto  death,  though  it 
cost  him  a  pretty  hard  spasm  of  the  heart;  secretly 
he  loved  Cicily,  good  or  bad,  he  loved  her,  but 
friendship  first  and  love  afterwards,  though  it 
hurt. 

"  Tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Regan,  who  felt 
the  boy's  pain,  "we'll  keep  up  a  secret  corre 
spondence  with  them,  and  leave  somebody  here 
on  guard,  and  later  we'll  come  back  and  capture 
them  both,  bag  and  baggage;  that  is,  if  they  turn 
out  all  right." 

At  this  Sallus  brightened  and  looked  at  his 
watch.  "  Guess  I'll  run  over  there  and  explain  the 
whole  business;  I  suppose  we'll  leave  this  room 
just  as  it  is  ?  " 


318  EL  RESHID 

"  Sure,  why  not;  I'll  rent  it  indefinitely,  and  it'll 
be  here  when  we  come  back,  and  we  can  turn  in 
just  as  usual.  A  little  run  over  to  Stamboul  is 
nothing. "  This  settled,  Sallus  went  over  to  Cicily. 

"  Now,  about  Rhea  ?  "  said  Regan  to  himself, 
' '  what  am  I  going  to  do  about  Rhea  ?  Why,  tell 
her  of  course;  I  might  as  well  get  over  with  it  first 
as  last— I'll  go  now."  ' 

A  half  hour  later,  he  was  settled  in  Rhea's  little 
parlor,  relating  to  that  young  lady  his  plans. 

"  You  see,  Miss  Nellino,  we'll  get  back  to  Con 
stantinople  in  a  jiffy,  and  dig  up  the  foundations  of 
the  whole  city,  if  it  comes  to  that.  I'm  fond  of 
Aleppo,  and  I  don't  take  kindly  to  losing  him,  but 
beinrr  i,,  _,„  by  a  Jew  is  worse  yet.  I  have  found 
r.'j  vocation — it  is  just  this — setting  Jews  and 
Yankees  on  to  each  other;  it  suits  me  exactly,  I'm 
mighty  grateful  to  Aleppo  for  giving  me  this 
chance." 

' '  Rhea  was  quite  herself  again  and  beamed  on 
Regan  as  she  had  done  in  days  of  old. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  Mr.  Regan  anything  about  the 
girl  Cicily,  whom  Sallus  has  taken  such  a  liking 
to?  " 

"Not  exactly,  except  that  she's  pretty  and  she 
knows  it." 

"  She  would  be  a  strange  woman  if  she  didn't," 
answered  Rhea  laughing. 

•'Spino's  the  daisy  though,"  said  Regan;  "  you 
had  better  go  to  see  them  Miss  Nellino;  one  doesn't 


THE  CONFUSION  OF   TONGUES  319 

meet  more  than  one  such  couple  in  a  lifetime.  Tell 
you,  if  you  want  to  find  odds  and  ends,  stay  in  Cairo; 
Cicily  and  Spino  make  the  Alpha  and  Omega — the 
first  and  the  last — the  best  and  the  worst  as  to 
looks.  By  the  way  Miss  Nellino,  .you've  grown 
thinner." 

"  Have  I  ?  "—coloring,  "  I  expect  you  are  men 
tally  drawing  a  contrast  between  me  and  Miss 
Cicily;  please  don't." 

"  Can't  help  it  Miss  Rhea,  though  it's  quite  in 
your  favor.  Will  you  leave  Cairo?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  And  where  next  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know," — looking  at  him  pathetically 
with  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes. 

Regan  was  like  all  tender  hearted  men,  and 
woman's  tears  overcame  him.  He  dared  not  console 
her,  so  he  rose  abruptly  and  decided  that  he  must 

go- 

"  Now  look  here  Miss  Nellino" — he  had  her 
hand  in  his — ' '  women  as  a  rule  have  mighty  little 
effect  on  me,  but  you've  broke  me  of  the  tobacco 
habit,  and  anybody  that  stops  another  from  chew 
ing,  is  pretty  powerful,  if  I  do  say  it.  I  don't  want 
to  be  a  fool  nor  seem  soft,  but  before  we  part,  which 
may  be  forever,  I've  got  to  thank  you  for  all  you've 
done  for  me.  To  know  a  woman  like  you  Miss 
Rhea,  is  to  be  converted;  and  the  best  of  it  is  that 
you  never  try  to  do  anything  at  all;  you're  just  you; 
that's  about  the  size  of  it;  and  a  man  like  me  has 


320  EL  RES  HID 

got  to  duck  his  head  when  he  comes  your  way,  he 
can't  help  it.  There's  one  thing  more  I  want  to 
say  to  you  before  I  make  my  run  for  the  Bosporus" 
— all  the  time  holding  her  hand  in  a  firm  grip — 
"that  young  man,  Bracciolini,  or  Aleppo  or 
Romanes  or  whoever  he  may  be,  is  all  right;  he's 
sound  as  a  nut  and  as  true  as  gold ;  he  rings  like 
the  genuine  coin;  I've  tried  him.  Now  don't  you 
worry  and  grow  thin  and  all  that;  we'll  dig  him  up 
yet,  Sallus  and  I;  so  you  just  go  in  for  having  a 
good  time,  and  sleeping  nights  and  eating  and  sing 
ing  and  dancing  and  we'll  do  the  rest.  L,ots  of  love 
to  you  Miss  Nellino,  good  bye. " 

Rhea  was  dumb  for  a  moment,  but  held  on  to 
him  with  tight  grip,  so  much  did  she  hate  to  see 
him  go — a  genuine  comforter,  every  word  that  he 
said  went  straight  to  her  heart  and  remained  there 
forever. 

"Mr.  Regan,  I  love  you  devotedly;  you're  my 
friend,  my  brother,  you  make  one  bright  spot  in  my 
life,  without  any  shadow — good-bye." 

She  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  threw  a  kiss 
after  him,  as  he  went  down  the  garden  path.  It 
was  the  last  time  that  he  ever  saw  Rhea  Nellino. 


THE  FIGHT  IS  ON  321 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
THE  FIGHT  IS  ON. 

Romanes  was  patient,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  existence,  allowed  himself  to  float  with  the  tide. 
His  one  desire  was  to  meet  and  talk  with  his  son 
Aleppo,  yet  even  that  he  curbed,  trusting  to  the 
mighty  hand  of  El  Reshid  to  bring  about  the  event. 
He  lived  at  his  hotel  in  Genoa,  receiving  frequent 
letters  from  Caesar  Catus,  but  otherwise  quite  isolate, 
though  surrounded  by  a  crowd.  His  rooms  were 
simple  hotel  apartments,  bare  of  the  books  and 
works  of  art  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed,  nor 
did  he  seem  to  miss  them,  nor  all  the  little  atten 
tions  formerly  paid  him  by  his  servants  at  his  own 
house.  He  waited  upon  himself,  and  spent  a  great 
portion  of  his  time  in  introspection  and  deep  thought. 
If  his  eyes  had  been  less  restless  he  would  have 
seemed  to  have  reached  a  condition  of  serenity,  but 
his  intense,  shifting  glance  showed  his  anxiety  and 
betrayed  the  secret  of  a  fiery,  oriental  nature  held 
in  check  but  not  subdued. 

Though  he  knew  that  El  Reshid  was  behind 
Aleppo,  as  for  himself,  he  felt  no  influence  from 
that  quarter,  nor  did  Catus  keep  him  informed  as 


322  EL  RESHID 

to  the  efforts  made  in  regard  to  his  son.  Catus' 
letters  were  simply  philosophic  and  friendly,  advis 
ing  him  to  cultivate  patience  and  endurance.  At 
times  Romanes  felt  bitter  over  this;  he  was  by 
nature  a  commander,  and  obedience,  to  him  was  a 
new  role,  but"  he  understood  ;  he  had  been  drilled 
in  the  formulas,  and  had  drank  at  the  fountain  of 
wisdom  ;  so  he  continued  at  Genoa,  passive  with 
out,  fiery  within. 

One  evening,  weeks  after  Catus  had  left  him,  the 
servant  handed  him  a  card.  The  name  inscribed 
caused  him  a  flutter  of  the  heart,  but  outwardly  he 
showed  great  indifference  and  ordered  his  caller  to 
be  admitted  at  once.  A  moment  later,  Jacob 
Issachar  entered  the  room  and  spreading  both 
hands,  palms  outward,  bowed  low.  Romanes  greeted 
him  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  not  even 
rising  as  a  cordial  host  would  do. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  learned,"  said  he,  without 
beating  about  the  bush  in  the  least,  "  that  Helene 
Cressey  is  dead  and  that  whatever  contract  she  may 
have  made  with  you  in  regard  to  our  son,  went  out 
with  her — ' ' 

-  Issachar  showed  all  his  teeth  and  looked  Romanes 
over  from  head  to  foot. 

"Furthermore  I  repudiate  you.  Madame  Cres 
sey 's  Vienna  property  belongs  to  Aleppo.  You 
know  me  of  old  Jacob  Issachar;  we  crossed  swords 
once  in  the  Order. " 

Romanes  was  now  upon  his  feet  and  stepping 


THE  FIGHT  IS   ON  323 

close  to  Issachar,  challenged  him  with  a  look  from 
which  another  would  have  shrunk;  not  so  the  Jew. 
With  equal  coolness  he  arranged  the  folds  of  his 
robe  and  growing  slightly  taller,  said  in  a  melodious 
voice,  "Very  well  do  I  remember — I  forget  nothing.' 

"  Traitor  !"  said  Romanes  under  his  breath, 
"false  to  El  Reshid  and  the  brothers,  false  to 
Helene  Cressey  and  my  son,  how  dare  you,  know 
ing  me  as  you  do,  come  here  like  a  bargaining  Jew, 
to  barter  for  the  freedom  of  Aleppo  Romanes  !  ' ' 

"And  thou,"  answed  Issachar  in  slightly  acceler 
ated  speech,  "  thou,  I  presume,  hast  never  failed 
the  Order,  nor  broken  a  sacred  vow.  Thou  who 
knowest  something  of  the  Rosy  Cross  and  the 
moon-struck  lotus,  thou  who  realizest  the  completed 
square  and  the  symbolic  cone,  thou,  I  presume — " 
drawing  his  thin  lips  taut  over  his  glittering  teeth 
—"thou,  of  all  others,  hast  the  supreme  right  to 
call  me  a  traitor,  and  thyself,  a  god." 

For  an  instant  Romanes  bowed  his  head,  then 
rose  to  his  full  height,  and,  as  if  by  magic,  there 
came  to  his  face  and  figure  the  virile  look  of  youth. 
Slowly,  each  syllable  vibrating  with  the  resonance 
of  supreme  contempt,  he  spat  at  the  Jew,  these 
words. 

' '  Canst  thou  face  El  Reshid  ? ' ' 

Issachar 's  swarthy  countenance,  for  an  instant, 
took  on  the  hue  of  death,  but  bracing  himself  with 
a  supreme  effort  of  will,  he  stooped,  till  his  eyes 
were  on  level  with -those  of  the  man  by  his  side, 


324  BL 

and  thrusting  his  head  forward  like  a  reptile  about 
to  sting,  hissed  these  venomous  words  in  the  ear  of 
Romanes — 

"  I  have  thy  son,  cursed  traitor  to  the  Order  !  do 
thou  my  bidding,  or  I  tighten  the  coils. " 

The  two  men  glared — glared. 

"  Seest  thou  this  knife?  "  drawing  the  slim  steel 
from  his  sleeve.  "I  swear  to  thee  it  shall  pierce 
the  heart  of  Aleppo  Romanes,  if  thou  darest  to 
defy  me;  I  am  Issachar,  the  Jew  !  " 

For  an  instant  the  color  left  Romanes'  face;  a 
startled  look  came  into  his  eyes;  he  clutched  at  .the 
chair,  threw  a  flash  at  the  door,  then  the  old  fire 
of  the  autocrat  blazed. 

' '  I  am  without  arms,  or  I  would  shoot  you  like  a 
dog;  had  I  the  strength,  I  would  tear  you  limb 
from  limb.  You  seem  my  master,  vile  cur  of  Stam- 
boul,  but  beware  how  you  lay  hands  on  Aleppo 
Romanes. 

"You,  too,  know  something  of  the  Rosy  Cross, 
and  the  moon-struck  lotus;  you,  too,  have  realized 
the  completed  square  and  deadly  cone.  Beware, 
dog  of  a  Jew!  Are  the  powers  dead  that  send  the 
lightning  with  the  thunder;  are  the  invisible  wires 
cut;  has  the  Damascan  blade  lost  its  edge?  Beware, 
I  tell  you,  or  faster  than  the  speed  of  thought  will 
come  the  avenger,  to  strike  you  in  your  tracks,  and 
toss  your  rotting  carcass  to  the  carrion  fiends  of 
hell!" 

"  Art  thou  done?  "  said  Issachar. 


THE  FIGHT  IS  ON  325 

"  No!  give  me  the  dagger." 

At  this,  the  Jew  bared  his  arm  and  drew  the 
sharp,  gleaming  steel  quickly  across  his  naked 
flesh,  making  three  long  and  ghastly  lines  in  the 
form  of  a  strange  symbol,  from  which  the  blood 
fell. 

"Thy  son  has  this  vile  mark  upon  his  back, 
Henrique  Romanes;" — he  held  out  his  bleeding 
arm — "'tis  the  'devil's  own;'  he  is  one  of  us; 
wheresoever  he  goeth  he  is  cursed,  living  or  dead 
he  is  mine;  even  in  hell  is  the  sign  known  and 
Issachar  feared.  In  face  of  this,  I  offer  him  release; 
in  face  of  this,  I  abjure  my  right  and  title — a  Jew 
can  keep  his  word.  What  manner  of  father  art 
thou,  that  for  the  sake  of  '  filthy  coin  '  thou  canst 
damn  thy  flesh  and  blood  forever." 

"  And  art  thou  done  ?  ' '  said  Romanes. 

"No," — he  wiped  the  blood  from  his  arm  and 
sheathed  his  dagger — "  fulfill  the  contract  of  the 
woman,  Helene  Cressey,  and  I  renounce  my  right 
and  title  to  thy  son." 

They  had  been  lunging  with  invisible  swords  in 
deadly  contest,  thrusting  like  experts.  Romanes 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  dripping  brow,  and  Issa 
char  swathed  his  wounded  arm. 

"  If  I  refuse,  you  can  but  kill  my   son;  and   if  I 
yield,  I   grow   yet    blacker.      Honor!      To  get  it 
back,  I  stake  Aleppo." 
„   "What!  and  thou  take  the  chance?  " 

' '  Hear  me ! ' '     Romanes  gripped  the  arm  of  Issa- 


326  KL  RESHTI) 

cher  where  the  wound  bled.  "The  fight  is  on, 
tooth  and  nail!  'Tis  a  battle  for  life.  Not  so  easily 
can  you  subdue  me.  I  will  summon  help  at  once. 
Genoa  shall  shut  its  gates;  in  the  sleeve  of  every 
brother  is  a  knife;  in  the  glance  of  the  faithful 
lurketh  death.  I  refuse  you,  Jacob  Issachar,  I 
defy  you;  even  mine  own  son  shall  paint  me  no 
blacker.  Go,  you,  and  do  your  worst  !  " 

For  the  first  time  during  the  interview  the  Jew 
concealed  his  teeth.  The  smile  had  vanished,  and 
with  it  the  look  of  supreme  self-confidence;  some 
thing  of  servility  appeared,  hid  subtly  beneath  his 
regal  bearing;  while  a  certain  fawning  motion  of 
the  hand  betrayed  in  him  the  velvet  suavity  of  the 
cat. 

"  And  so  thy  powers  are  not  yet  blasted,"  he 
said,  casting  a  shifting  glance  upon  Romanes;  "  I 
remember  well  the  day  when  thou  didst  summon  a 
legion  to  thy  presence.  Cheat  not  thyself,  however, 
into  believing  that  thou  art  still  the  same.  Even 
El  Reshid  came  at  thy  command,  even  he  removed 
his  hat;  then  wert  thou  Master.  I  sank  upon  my 
knee  before  thee  in  the  dirt,  I  crawled  upon  my 
belly,  like  a  snake,  and,  grovelling,  swore  that  thy 
weak  spot  I  would  yet  discover,  and  strike  thee 
there.  Money!  Ha!  ha!  on  every  coin  I  wrench 
from  thee  is  cut  the  word  revenge. 

"  So  thou  dost  bid  me  go  and  do  the  devil's  work, 
and  thou  will  do  thy  worst — thou!  Ha!  Genoa 
hath  no  gates,  nor  are  there  brothers  at  thy  elbow; 


THE  PRISONER  327 

even  El  Reshid  stands  aloof!     Thy  powers  are  not 
yet  blasted  !  ha!  ha!" 

He  watched  his  enemy  as  a  dog  who  tries  to 
sneak  away  watches  another;  he  dared  not  remove 
his  eyes.  A  change  had  taken  place — Romanes  was 
erect,  autocratic,  intense;  the  imperial  look  was  on 
his  brow,  the  fire  within  his  glance ;  a  veritable 
commander,  he  cowed  Issachar,  and  held  him  by 
the  undying  thrill  of  memory,  fast,  glued,  immov 
able  thus  for  a  full  minute;  then,  drawing  a  long, 
barbaric  sigh,  that  sounded  like  the  breathing  of  a 
dextrous  tiger,  Issachar  grew  smaller,  more 
evasive,  and  backed  slowly,  with  a  snake-like 
motion,  to  the  door,  eye-to-eye  with  Romanes, 
undulating,  gliding,  till,  at  last,  reaching  his  hand 
behind  him,  he  twisted  the  latch  and  vanished  in 
the  dark  beyond. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 
THE  PRISONER. 

Bunyau  wrote  his  immortal  work  while  in  prison. 
If  the  mind  of  man  can  stand  the  strain,  if  he  have 
power  to  think  deeply  and  imagine  sublimely, 
though  you  put  him  behind  the  bars  and  turn  the 
key  to  his  cell,  yet  in  reality  he  escapes  you,  and 
roams  not  only  over  earth  but  through  the  spaces 
above.  Though  his  floor  be  of  stone,  his  bed  of 


328  EL  RESHID 

straw  and  his  bread  a  crust,  yet  will  he  dwell  in  a 
palace  and  feast  like  a  king. 

Aleppo  Romanes  had  been  closely  guarded  from 
the  time  of  his  capture  on  the  Libyan  desert  till  he 
reached  Stamboul.  It  is  not  necessary  to  explain 
here  the  skill  with  which  Issachar  had  concealed 
him,  nor  the  expedients  used  to  enable  him  to 
travel  so  long  a  distance  undetected ;  suffice  it  to 
say  that  this  was  but  child's  play  to  the  Jew,  who 
turned  the  lock  finally  on  Aleppo  in  a  house  of  his 
own  in  that  best  of  hiding  places — Constantinople. 
The  room  in  which  young  Romanes  was  imprisoned 
was  a  gorgeous  oriental  apartment,  more  impress 
ive  with  its  subtle,  evasive  spices  and  scents  than 
would  have  been  a  common  cell  in  an  ordinary 
jail.  Every  comfort  was  supplied  him,  and  his 
condition  was  quite  different  from  his  life  in  the 
Arab  tent  on  the  desert. 

In  spite  of  his  dainty  dressing  room  and  silk 
oriental  robes,  in  spite  of  the  luxurious  meals 
served  by  black  attendants,  in  spite  of  the  books 
scattered  here  and  there,  the  harp,  the  mandolin 
and  the  organ,  he  felt  smothered  and  oppressed. 
He  had  no  outlook,  save  through  the  half-closed 
shutters  of  a  barred  window,  nor  chance  for  exer 
cise  except  on  the  thick  pile  of  yielding  rugs.  He 
was  surfeited  with  luxury — it  was  a  positive  horror. 
The  air,  though  pure  from  careful  ventilation,  was 
loaded  with  a  spicy  incense  which  made  its  way 
from  the  adjacent  apartment  through  cracks  in  the 


12 


THE  FIGHT  IS   ON  329 

doors,  and  kept  Lis  mental  powers  in  a  kind  of 
stupor  that  it  took  a  supreme  effort  of  the  will  to 
throw  off.  The  books,  too,  which  were  ever  at 
hand  by  his  couch,  on  the  window  sill,  under  the 
cushions  of  the  divans,  or  concealed  in  the  folds  of 
the  curtains  like  so  many  evil  spirits,  intruded 
their  sensuous  rottenness  upon  him  at  all  times. 
The  worst  selections  of  the  greatest  authors,  while 
never  mediocre  as  to  art,  but  devilish  in  intent, 
were  constantly  appealing  to  his  curiosity  and  forc 
ing  him  to  wander  along  paths  where  the  flowers 
were  poison  and  the  trees  deadly.  Nor  could 
Aleppo  raise  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  without  resting 
them  on  masterpieces  that,  having  escaped  the  ac 
cusation  of  being  obscene,  were  yet  so  closely  allied 
to  that  which  is  vulgar,  that  to  pronounce  judgment 
upon  them  was  no  easy  task.  In  the  great  room 
also,  for  the  salon  was  very  large,  were  tinted 
statues  entirely  nude,  of  the  hue  of  human  flesh 
and  magical  in  their  power  of  deluding  the  be 
holder  into  the  idea  that  they  were  truly  alive 
— works  of  genius,  every  one,  and  so  seductive 
that  he  who  would  have  destroyed  them  might  be 
termed  either  a  brute,  or  a  benefactor.  In  the  im 
mense  window,  where  the  thick  iron  bars  were  con 
cealed  with  folds  of  exquisite  lace,  were  potted 
plants  to  which  the  black  attended  assiduously  ; 
all  voluptuous,  large-flowered,  crossings  from 
hardier  specimens  that  brazenly  challenged  his 
eye  like  the  wanton  prostitutes  of  a  brothel.  Here 


330  UI<  RESHID 

Aleppo  remained  week  after  week,  seeing  none  but 
the  black  servants,  who  seemed  to  have  lost  their 
tongues. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Romanes  was  a 
young  man  with  the  warm  blood  of  the  Orient  in 
his  veins.  Had  he  been  incarcerated  here  a  year 
sooner  he  would  most  likely  have  fallen  a  temporary 
prey  to  the  hot  novels  which  reached  to  him  their 
invisible  hands  like  ghostly  harlots.  The  busts  and 
statues  must  needs  have  excited  unspeakable  emo 
tions,  and  the  pictures  have  raised  his  pulse.  The 
rich  food  also,  spiced  and  doctored  with  alcoholic 
stimulants  would  have  set  him  reeling,  drunk  with 
luxury,  for  he  was  pampered  with  a  questionable 
cuisine.  Even  in  his  present  a  ndition  of  mind 
and  aspiration,  hate  as  he  might  the  refined  lewd- 
ness  of  the  place,  yet  the  artist  in  him  revelled  at 
times  in  an  almost  insane  pleasure  which  inevitably 
transformed  itself  into  pain.  He  sat  for  long  hours 
with  his  eyes  closed,  lest  he  see  the  pictures  and 
ceiling  frescoes  that  transported  him  to  a  kind  of 
Bacchanalian  Bohemia,  where  art  ran  riot,  and  love 
degenerated  into  lust.  He  gleaned  here  and  there 
from  the  books,  covering  with  a  clean  sheet  of 
paper  those  portions  not  fit  for  an  aspiring  soul,  as 
though  by  so  concealing  he  had  spread  a  swan's 
white  wing  on  a  malaria-breeding  pool. 

Thus  Aleppo  kept  himself  unsullied  though  he 
suffered  as  never  before.  He  strove  to  combat  the 
enclosed  environment  with  another  which  he  con- 


THE  FIGHT  IS  ON  331 

jured  constantly  and  saw,  whenever  he  closed  his 
eyes.  It  was  always  the  temple  of  Karnak,  the 
blue  sky  of  Thebes,  the  sinuous  Nile  and  Rhea. 
This  vision  purified  the  very  statues,  repainted  the 
frescoes  and  extracted  the  poison  from  the  books. 
Test  the  soul  with  hardship,  and  if  it  be  blessed 
with  the  combativeness  and  resistance,  it  will  grow 
healthy  and  strong  under  the  ordeal.  The  majority 
of  people  improve  with  adversity,  becoming  wild, 
hardy  flowers  with  the  breath  of  sweet  violets. 
But  only  the  great  can  endure  prosperity  or  grow 
strong  in  the  caressing  arms  of  luxury.  Imagine 
this  forced  upon  one  to  the  extreme  of  cruelty  and 
you  obtain  some  idea  of  the  diabolism  of  Issachar 
and  the  danger  of  Aleppo. 

One  day  he  was  very  tired,  though  never  for  a 
moment  had  he  lost  the  sense  of  the  justice  of  all 
things,  and  though  he  seemed  to  be  a  martyr,  in  a 
certain  aspect  he  was  not,  but  only  realizing  the 
effect  of  a  far  back  cause  for  which  he  himself  was 
responsible,  yet,  nevertheless,  he  was  very  tired. 
He  had  mentally  petitioned  El  Reshid  again  and 
again,  but  that  great  Master  had  apparently  turned 
his  back.  Catus,  Regan  and  Sallus  had  somehow 
missed  him  and  Issachar  alone  was  a  mighty  reality, 
whom  he  had  thus  far  failed  to  escape.  The  lan 
guor  of  luxury  had  stolen  into  his  blood  and  in  a 
measure  paralyzed  his  wings.  In  truth  it  was  but 
temporary  and  seeming,  his  mental  eye  looked  ever 
eastward  toward  the  rising  sun,  his  shrine  was  as 


332  Ely  RESHID 

fixed  as  the  Mecca  of  the  Arab,  yet  on  this  particu 
lar  occasion  he  was  wear}',  sad. 

It  was  time  for  the  black  to  bring  his  evening 
meal,  he  dreaded  its  arrival;  the  slimy,  dumb  brute, 
that  fawned  about  him,  revolted  his  soul.  The 
door  opened — what !  a  sweet  smiling  face  looked  in , 
and  a  melodious  voice  said  softly  in  Italian,  "I'll 
serve  you  to-night." 

She  was  a  seductive  little  Pagan,  with  long 
narrow  eyes,  tinted  finger  nails,  and  naked  arms, 
over  which  draped  the  folds  of  a  Greek  gown  to 
cover  them  one  moment  and  fall  away  the  next, 
displaying  their  ivory  whiteness  even  to  the 
shoulders.  She  hovered  about,  touching  him  now 
and  then,  but  saying  little  and  exciting  his  curiosity 
by  a  thousand  airs  and  graces  which  both  charmed 
and  repelled;  at  least  she  was  something  new,  a 
relief  from  the  sensuous  monstrosity  of  the  few  last 
weeks  and  a  great  improvement  on  the  dumb  black. 

He  was  a  little  happier  for  the  coming  of  the 
woman  for  a  time.  The  negroes  had  entirely 
vanished,  and  she  in  their  place  waited  upon  Aleppo 
as  though  she  were  the  slave  of  a  Sultan.  He  had 
begun  to  like  her  in  a  grateful  way,  from  the  first 
he  had  admired  her  for  her  grace  and  artistic 
beauty,  for  she  made  a  new  picture  of  herself  at 
each  turn  of  her  head — and  was  a  hundred  women 
in  one,  in  her  postures  and  poses,  kind  as  a  sister, 
watchful  as  a  mother;  Aleppo  must  indeed  have 


THE  FIGHT  IS  ON  333 

been  a  brute  had  he  not  longed  for  her  coming  and 
sighed  at  her  departure. 

This  went  on  for  days.  One  evening  she  brought 
his  supper,  and  as  she  placed  the  tray  at  his  side 
she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  declared 
that  she  loved  him.  It  was  a  critical  moment  in 
which  young  Romanes,  with  more  ease  than  one 
would  have  supposed  possible,  gently  put  the  girl 
away,  conscious  at  the  same  time  that  her  so-called 
love  was  not  only  a  false  passion  but  a  part  of  the 
game  of  Issachar.  He  urged  her  to  fly  from  this 
house  of  wickedness,  ere  she  became  an  absolute 
prisoner  like  himself.  Then  the  fetid  nature  of  the 
vile  woman  displayed  itself;  she  laughed  in  his  face 
and  treated  him  to  a  volley  of  lingual  obscenity  the 
like  of  which  had  never  struck  his  ears  before.  In 
all  his  young  life  he  had  heard  nothing  of  this  kind 
nor  had  he  dreamed  that  it  could  be.  He  ordered 
the  young  girl  from  the  apartment,  and  his  eyes 
flashing  lightning,  his  face  a  thunder  cloud;  he 
rushed  to  the  windows  and  tore  their  mockery  of 
spider-web  lace  into  shreds;  then  he  tried  the  iron 
bars,  hunting  for  a  piece  of  steel  or  some 
thing  that  would  take  its  place,  but  the  room  was 
singularly  free  from  anything  of  the  kind.  He  had 
never  felt  so  strong  before  in  his  life.  If  physical 
force  failed  him  he  would  forge  his  brain  into  keys 
and  his  nerves  into  files;  if  that  too  were  in  vain, 
he  would  summon  the  invincible,  the  psychic  power 


334  EL  RESHID 

itself,  and  bring  from  out   the  universal  certain 
means  of  relief. 

The  time  for  action  had  arrived,  too  long  already 
had  he  lain  in  the  arms  of  others  and  sat  upon  their 
laps;  too  long  had  he  negatively  received  inspira 
tion — inhaled,  and  closed  his  lips.  His  youth  had 
fled ;  he  had  seen  the  last  touch  of  hell — a  harlot 
out  of  the  infernal  fires;  there  was  nothing  of  evil 
hid,  he  was  old — old  in  his  knowledge  of  sin.  He 
jerked  the  lascivious  pictures  from  the  wall  and 
hurled  them  to  the  floor;  he  threw  down  the  parian 
statues  and  shattered  them  to  bits;  he  tore  the  vile 
pages  from  the  books  of  the  great  masters,  and 
upset  the  barbaric  plants.  His  whole  Unit  of 
Energy,  till  now  but  half  roused,  made  his  muscles 
hard  like  steel  and  his  nerves  tense  as  the  strings 
of  a  bow. 

"  I  have  been  learning,"  he  said,  shaking  back 
his  hair,  as  would  a  young  lion.  He  looked 
strangely  like  his  father — the  one  invincible  lock 
fell  on  his  brow,  his  eyes  were  quick,  scintillating, 
determined,  and  his  pose  erect.  The  imperial 
stamp  was  on  him,  in  spite  of  the  devil's  mark. 
The  black  veil  of  his  past  had  been  rent,  he  had 
faced  the  extreme  of  sorrow,  and  now  he  stood  eye 
to  eye  with  the  limit  of  sin. 

The  arras  over  the  door  was  lifted  softly,  and 
with  a  cat-like  motion,  Issachar  entered  the  room. 

"  So  my  prisoner,  to  whom  I  showed  nothing  but 
kindness,  has  rebelled," — he  glanced  at  the  chaotic 


THE  FIGHT  IS  ON  335 

pile  of  statues  and  ictpures,  and  smiled — "  even  the 
beautiful  woman  was  driven  out.  What  next  may 
I  expect  from  so  erratic  a  guest  ?  " 

"  That  he  will  vanish,"  answered  Aleppo,  scorn 
fully. 

"  My  guest  will  vanish,  ha!  ha!  my  guest  will 
vanish.  I  have  just  come  from  thy  father,  who  is  in 
Genoa,  to  find  my  house  demolished  and  my  cour 
tesy  abused.  Methinks  I  will  try  new  methods— 
a  dungeon  and  a  chain.  Your  ransom  moneys  will 
fail  to  pay  me  for  this  wholesale  destruction  of  these 
precious  works  of  art;  I  must  raise  thy  price. 
Thine  august  father  c?  res  so  little  for  his  bastard  son 
that  he  refuses  me  a  modest  recompense;  mayhap, 
however,  when  he  discovers  what  a  wild  beast  he 
hath  bred,  he  will  change  his  stubborn  mind.  Get 
rid  of  thy  conceit  henceforth;  in  truth  thou  boldest 
thyself  of  far  too  much  account.  Thy  faithful 
friends  still  eat,  and  drink,  and  laugh.  Miss 
Nellino  marries  soon  thy  bosom  friend  of  Italy, 
one  Caesar  Catus,  who  stole  thee  from  me  on  the 
Libyan  sands,  in  lieu  of  thee,  takes  to  himself  a 
bride.  Regan,  the  Yankee,  and  that  pretty  boy, 
who  dangles  at  his  heels,  are  off  to  parts  unknown, 
and  El  Reshid,  the  invincible,  who  followed  thee 
with  letters,  and  fired  thy  soul  to  deeds  of  spiritual 
valor,  forgets  that  thou  dost  live.  Bastard!  in  all 
the  world  thou  hast  but  me;  even  the  love,  that 
thou  didst  deem  immortal,  dost  fail  thee  now,  and 
in  the  breach  only  the  devil  holds  his  ground.  I 


336  EL  RESHID 

come  to  barter  with  thee,  thou  hast  my  admiration, 
my  esteem.  I  would  adopt  thee  as  my  very  own — 
my  mark  is  on  thy  back — on  thee  I  would  bestow 
both  power  and  wealth.  Spurn  thy  allegiance  to 
the  past,  to  fickle  friends  and  shifting  dreams;  dis 
own  thy  spurious  sire  and  hopeless  aim  toward 
spiritual  power,  forget  El  Reshid,  who  long  since 
deserted  thee,  and  prince  that  thou  most  surely  art, 
be  mine  !  " 

Aleppo  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast,  and 
said  no  word. 

"  As  I  am  king,  so  shalt  thou  be.  In  Italy, 
Egypt,  Turkey,  India,  on  the  Sahara,  even  in 
France  and  the  islands  of  the  sea,  on  the  very 
ground  where  walked  the  Nazarene,  at  the  Mon 
golian  centers,  aye,  everywhere  my  subjects  are — 
mine.  Long  have  I  sought  for  a  son  and  heir — one 
strong,  defiant,  like  myself,  who  dare  to  look  me 
in  the  eye,  and  cross  his  sword  with  mine.  Aleppo 
Romanes,  that  man  thou  art." 

He  waited,  approaching  nearer  to  the  haughty 
figure  that  stood  with  folded  arms  still  as  a  statue, 
in  the  center  of  a  chaos  which  he,  himself,  had 
made. 

"What  sayest  thou?" 

But  there  came  no  answer,  save  the  whispers  in 
the  room,  which  seemed  to  steal  from  every  corner, 
as  though  a  legion  of  tempters  lurked  in  the  shadow 
and  urged  Aleppo  Romanes  to  submit.  The  heart 
of  the  young  man  had  turned  to  stone,  through  all 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH   337 

this  speech  of  Issachar  he  heard  naught,  save  the 
word,  Rhea — Rhea — Rhea — false!  Rhea! 

"  Speak  now  !  beneath  this  palace  is  a  dungeon; 
freedom  as  my  son,  or  this  black  hole — speak!  " 

"The  dungeon,"  said  Aleppo,  and  the  Jew  felt 
that  for  once  he  had  overshot  the  mark. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH. 

Issachar  had  seized  upon  the  prevalent  idea  that 
the  getting  of  money  was  the  prime  incentive  of  the 
Jew,  and  under  the  guise  of  greed  was  striving  to 
accomplish  the  revenge  for  which  he  lived  ;  re 
venge  not  only  upon  the  individual,  Henrique  Ro 
manes,  but  upon  all  mankind  who  especially  as 
pired  to  divine  powers.  For  private  reasons  he 
particularly  hated  Romanes  and  had  been  waiting 
for  years  for  the  opportunity  to  strike.  He  had  in 
sinuated  himself  into  the  good  graces  of  Helene 
Cressey  and,  under  the  cloak  of  a  powerful  magic 
ian,  had  stimulated  her  curiosity  and  in  a  certain 
way  gained  her  admiration.  She  knew  nothing  of 
his  former  association  with  Romanes,  nor  aught  of 
his  history  save  from  some  few  hints  which  her 
lover  had  thrown  out  not  altogether  favorable  to 
the  Jew.  When  her  child  was  about  to  be  sent 
adrift  she  conceived  the  idea  of  so  marking  him 
with  the  symbol  of  the  Order,  that  wherever  he 


338  EL,  RESHID 

went  he  might  find  friends  among  the  members 
and,  possibly,  if  the  time  arrived  that  she  wished 
to  trace  him,  that  by  this  means  she  might  ac 
complish  her  desire.  So  she  summoned  Issachar 
and  explained  the  matter  clearly,  giving  him  the 
stamp  upon  which  was  the  sacred  seal,  requesting 
him  to  duplicate  the  same  indelibly  upon  the  body 
of  her  child.  On  the  contrary,  as  is  well  known, 
Issachar  substituted  a  symbol  of  his  own  and 
marked  him  with  a  sign  of  diabolism  which  is  too 
vulgar  to  here  describe. 

From  his  birth,  Issachar  had  never  lost  sight  of 
Aleppo,  having  some  one  in  the  boy's  wake  wher 
ever  he  w^nt.  Knowing  well  enough  when  he  in 
troduced  himself  at  Venice  that  the  young 
Br?cciolini  was  the  son  of  Henrique  Romanes,  he 
had  waited  his  time,  feeling  sure  that  the  parental 
anxiety  would  awaken  sooner  or  later,  when  he 
could  strike  an  unerring  blow. 

In  his  stormy  interview  with  his  old  commander 
he  had  drawn  the  dagger  and  threatened  to  kill 
Aleppo,  but  deep  in  his  mind  he  had  conceived  a 
subtler  and  far  more  cruel  revenge  which  was  none 
other  than  to  debauch  the  boy  and  win  him  to 
himself;  counting  on  the  aroused  paternal  affection 
in  Romanes,  he  had  drawn  the  steel  and,  upon  dis 
covering  that  the  fire  still  burned  in  the  oriental 
nature  of  his  former  master,  he  felt  that  his 
supreme  opportunity  had  arrived.  For  once  he 
might  inflict  torture,  the  refined  cruelty  of  which 


FACE,  TO   FACE   WITH  NAKED  TRUTH       339 

was  sufficient  to  satisfy  a  nature  like  his  own.  So 
he  ordered  Aleppo  to  the  dungeon,  as  he  called  it, 
though  in  reality  it  was  an  immense  wine  cellar, 
kept  under  lock  and  bolt  and  lighted  by  barred 
windows  which  threw  a  dim  glow  through 
the  place.  There  was  the  conventional  bed  of 
straw  and  the  usual  paraphernalia,  of  a  prison,  but 
otherwise  it  might  have  been  far  worse.  It  was  the 
policy  of  Issachar  to  keep  a  mental  crack  continu 
ally  open  for  Aleppo's  escape  into  his  arms,  for  he 
had  no  desire  to  completely  antagonize  the  young 
man.  Should  Aleppo  despair  and  commit  suicide, 
the  aim  of  the  Jew  would  be  defeated,  so  this  tant 
alizing  cellar,  while  really  an  exceedingly  hard 
place  to  get  away  from,  at  the  same  time  seemed  to 
offer  a  thousand  ways  of  escape.  Issachar's  main 
hope  of  winning  him,  however,  lay  in  the  stress 
which  young  Romanes  must  necessarily  lay  on  the 
desertion  of  his  friends.  If  he  could  but  once  con 
vince  him  that  they  were  more  or  less  false  or  in 
different,  a  hatred  would  be  aroused  and  a  desire 
for  revenge  with  it,  which  would  change  his  nature 
from  one  of  a  god  to  that  of  a  fiend.  He  had  fabri 
cated  the  lie  of  Rhea  and  Caesar  out  of  a  spy's  story, 
who  had  seen  Catus  departing  from  the  young 
lady's  house  ;  nor  did  he  understand  the  nature  of 
Aleppo  sufficiently  to  realize  what  a  terrible  blow 
he  had  struck. 

When  the  young  man   was  left  in  the  dungeon 
the  reaction  was  upon  him  ;  he  had  rebounded  from 


310  BI,  RESHID 

a  state  of  intense  indignation  to  one  of  stupor 
and  lay  upon  his  pallet  of  straw  indifferent  to  life 
itself.  After  a  time  he  opened  his  eyes  and  watched 
a  spider  as  it  patiently  worked  its  web  in  the  win 
dow,  and  was  conscious  of  no  other  interest  on 
earth  than  that  the  ingenious  trap  should  be  com 
pleted,  for  he  felt  himself  to  be  the  harmless  fly  for 
whose  capture  the  web  was  spun.  As  he  gazed,  the 
spider  enlarged  and  changed  till  it  grew  to  the 
enormous  size  of  Issachar  and  then  for  a  long  time 
Aleppo  knew  no  more.  When  he  awoke  from  his 
sleep  of  exhaustion  it  was  nearly  dawn  ;  a  faint 
gray  light  was  visible  at  the  windows  but  most  of 
the  objects  about  him  were  shrouded  in  darkness  ; 
his  mind  was  clear  and  refreshed,  however,  his 
mind,  I  say,  for  his  heart  was  apparently  dead — 
emotion,  passion,  charm,  imagination  had  all  van 
ished  and  reason  sat  on  the  throne.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  determined  to  look  cold  facts  in 
the  face.  He  had  brought  up  against  a  skeleton 
bereft  of  bounding  blood  and  luxurious  flesh  ;  he 
felt  its  bones  rattle  and  saw  its  eyeless  sockets  and 
terrible  teeth.  Arising  quickly,  he  found  a  broken 
pitcher  partly  filled  with  water  and  with  this 
and  a  rough  towel  he  managed  to  refresh  himself. 
Later,  he  discovered  on  the  stone  table  as  the  light 
grew  clearer,  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  glass  of  milk. 
Having  finished  this  simple  breakfast,  which  must 
have  been  placed  at  his  side  the  night  before,  he 
sat  down  upon  the  straw  and  buried  his  face  in  his 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH   341 

hands  ;  not  to  weep,  oh  no  !  nor  was  he  the  victim 
of  despair,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  striving  to 
bring  his  whole  mental  force  to  bear  on 
the  situation,  in  other  words  he  strove  to 
concentrate.  He  had  no  desire  to  investigate  the 
premises  nor  to  effect  an  escape  ;  preferring 
the  dungeon  as  he  then  felt,  to  any  place  on  earth. 
What  had  he  outside  ?  A  father  who  abhorred  him , 
friends  who  had  forgotten,  and  Love  who  had 
proved  herself  unfaithful.  All  that  Aleppo  asked 
was  that  he  might  be  left  alone  to  think — think. 
El  Reshid  !  even  he  had  failed  to  cast  his  spell  ove  r 
him  ;  the  name  brought  no  thrill  to  his  heart,  nor 
cared  he  for  Damascus  or  Paradise.  The  problem 
had  attacked  his  brain  ;  he  was  bound  to  solve  it 
once  and  for  all.  He  would  wrestle  with  this 
giant  enigma  of  circumstances,  this  combination  of 
strange  events,  and  know  the  truth;  staking  his 
love,  his  pretty  dream  of  immortality,  his  Utopian 
hope  of  eternal  felicity,  his  trust  in  human  nature, 
his  confidence  in  a  friend's  loyalty,  on  logic,  law 
and  fact.  He  would  attack  the  puzzle  inductively 
and  deductively,  from  effects  to  causes,  from 
causes  to  effects  ;  he  would  weigh,  measure,  com 
pare,  reason.  In  this  investigation,  intuition,  im 
agination,  guess  work,  desire,  prejudice,  hope  and 
fear  should  cut  no  figure,  he  was  after  facts — facts. 
Through  his  whole  life  thus  far  he  had  been  im 
pressionable,  superstitious,  credulous,  imaginative  ; 
he  had  lived  in  a  land  of  dreams, 'where  phantom 


342  EL  RESHID 

trees  sang  with  zephyr  voices,  and  visionary 
streams  went  laughing  by ;  he  had  built  in  this 
fair  country  an  ideal  castle  and  put  therein  a  bride 
who  knew  no  shadow  of  turning,  but  was  loyalty 
incarnate  ;  more,  he  had  conjured  from  the  plains 
of  Syria  a  subtle  Master,  basing  his  existence  upon 
the  statements  of  others  and  a  few  scraps  of  paper 
written  over  with  the  well  known  conclusions  of 
the  great.  What  of  it  ?  Wise  sayings  are  not  so 
difficult  to  gather,  if  one  but  set  about  it.  Why 
believe  that  El  Reshid  was  far  different  from  other 
mortals  who  have  their  little  day  of  effort  and  good 
ness  as  they  also  have  their  time  of  evil.  Aleppo 
was  far  from  scanning  this  phantasmal  bank, 
stocked  with  illusions,  with  the  eyes  of  a  cynic  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  was  overlooking  it  with  the 
glance  of  pure  reason  ;  sorting  the  possibilities 
from  the  probabilities,  the  fancies  from  the  facts, 
the  theories  and  hypotheses  from  well  known  laws, 
in  order  to  get  the  whole  bearing  of  the  situation, 
which  means  nothing  other  than  the  Reason  of  the 
reasons.  He  began  with  the  Jew.  Issachar  was  a 
mighty  reality,  six  feet  and  a  half  in  height,  with 
superb  muscles,  subtle  brain  and  powerful  will.  He 
had  been  at  the  heels  of  Aleppo  from  the  time  of 
his  birth — wherefore?  Plainly  for  a  reward.  What 
this  reward  was  to  be  cut  no  figure,  whether 
money,  love  or  revenge,  there  was  no  denying  that 
the  young  Romanes  was  as  redeemable  as  a  bank 
note,  or,  if  not  that,  at  least  he  figured  as  a  tool  in 


FACE  TO   FACE   WITH   NAKED   TRUTH       313 

the  Jew's  calculations,  an  almost  helpless  means  to 
an  end.  Thus  far  the  problem  was  clear  enough. 
"Put  two  and  two  together,  it  makes  four,"  said 
Aleppo. 

The  next  to  be  weighed  by  the  scales  of  justice 
and  fact  was  his  father.     As  to  Henrique  Romanes 
being  his  father,  he  had  nothing  to  say;  whether  it 
were  he  or  some  other  man,  made  no  difference  in 
this  question.     The  author  of  his  bodily  existence 
according  to  Issachar,  had  refused,  from  pecuniary 
motives  to  ransom  his  son.     The  Jew  might  have 
lied,  yet  Issachar  being  a  prominent  figure,  went 
openly  about  the  streets,  his  house  in  Stamboul  must 
necessarily  be  known;  why  in  the  name  of  parental 
love,  if  such  love  there   really  were,  had    not   his 
father  brought  the  law  to  bear  and  rescued  his  im 
prisoned  son?    But  setting  this  aside,  admitting  that 
the  elder  Romanes  had  been  in  some  way  deceived, 
misled,   there  was    Regan,   his  voluntary  sire   (at 
the  thought  he  smiled  slightly),  who  had  vowed  to 
guard  him  from  the  wiles  of  the  Jew.     A  Yankee, 
shrewd,  rich,  how  was  it  possible  that  he  and  his 
boy  friend  Sallus  who  had  in  former  times  expressed 
lor  him  such  entire  devotion,  how   was  it  possible 
that  they  had   not  succeeded   in  some   measure  in 
tracing  him,  if  any  effort  on    their  part  had    been 
made?     Then  Catus,  who  had  so  valiantly  rescued 
him  from  the  Arab  tent — the  mysterious  Catus,  in 
touch  with  the  powers,  what  save  an  infatuation 
for  Rhea  could  have  turned  him  against  the  friend 


344  EL  RESHID 

of  his  aspiration  and  youth — Rhea — his  heart 
neither  trembled  nor  fluttered;  the  woman  who  had 
sung  his  song  and  made  claim  to  an  eternal  affec 
tion,  who  had  enamored  him  on  the  Nile  as 
Cleopatra  had  bewitched  Antony;  Rhea — if  the 
tale  of  the  Jew  were  false,  why  had  she  not 
followed  him,  even  to  the  dungeon,  guided  by  the 
unerring  instinct  of  love  itself.  And  El  Reshid,  if 
the  wonderful  powers  that  his  admirers  ascribed  to 
him  had  not  in  some  way  failed,  why  had  he  not 
mastered  a  wily  Jew  who  appeared  boldly  on  the 
streets  of  Constantinople  like  an  honest  man. 
And  bis  mother — dead. 

Whatever  of  feeling  was  left  to  Aleppo  manifested 
itself  in  admiration  for  Issachar;  evil  or  good  he 
was  sublime,  whether  a  fiery  volcano  spitting  the 
lava  of  death,  or  an  icy  peak  of  the  north — grand 
— or,  to  look  upon  him  as  a  thing  of  motion,  a  royal 
tiger  in  the  jungle  of  life,  he  had  struck  right  and 
left  with  his  velvet  paws  and  silenced  the  friends  of 
Aleppo- — his  pareLts,  his  sweetheart,  the  man,  El 
Reshid,  and  the  order  of  the  Olympians.  As  he 
dwelt  upon  Issachar  his  admiration  grew,  but  reso 
lutely  putting  his  rising  emotion  aside,  he  began 
his  mental  tussle  again. 

Here  on  the  chess-board  were  arranged  the  men, 
now  for  the  game:  First,  he  must  remember  that 
the  great  master  seldom  shows  his  hand  in  the 
beginning;  it  were  possible,  yes  probable,  that  El 
Reshid  was  waiting  his  time;  that  such  a  man 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH   345 

existed  he  was  certain,  others  had  seen  him,  then 
again,  if  Issachar  could  be  as  great,  as  he  had 
proved  himself  to  be,  it  were  not  unreasonable  to 
presume  that  there  might  be  another  neck  and  neck 
with  him.  In  the  calculation  of  chances  the  world 
must  hold  more  than  one  great  man  at  a  given  time. 
Conceding  therefore  the  possibility  of  a  being 
called  El  Reshid,  and  that  he  were  biding  his  time 
to  act,  how  about  the  executor — Caesar  Catus  ? 
One  thing  was  sure,  it  was  a  fact  that  he  had  risked 
his  life  on  the  desert  to  rescue  Aleppo;  it  was  also 
true  that  Caesar  was  a  man  with  all  the  passions  of 
one  whose  temperament  is  intense  and  artistic.  He- 
had  returned  to  Cairo,  and — how  could  he  help  it — 
fallen  in  love;  Rhea,  piqued  and  hopelers  of  regain 
ing  Aleppo,  for  consolation  had  responded.  The 
tale  of  the  Jew  corresponded  exactly  with  the  fickle 
nature  of  man  where  Cupid  flutters  and  hovers. 
Yet  on  the  other  hand  if  there  be  such  a  trait  as 
that  of  loyalty,  why  need  Catus  and  Rhea  neces 
sarily  have  been  devoid  of  it,  especially  as  he  had 
sworn  fealty  to  a  sacred  order,  and  she  to  an  eternal 
love.  About  Regan  and  Sallus  he  debated  less,  as 
he  well  understood  that  they  were  no  match  for  the 
Jew,  and  might  have  been  making  great  efforts 
without  avail. 

He  balanced  his  pros  and  cons,  and  diving 
deeper  into  the  subtleties  attacked  the  very  laws 
themselves.  First  he  asked  himself,  ' '  Is  there  such 
a  thing  as  parental  love  ?  Admitting  that  there  is, 


346  EL  RESHID 

does  it  extend  beyond  the  mother  and  its  manifesta 
tion  in  the  brute?  "  He  went  after  data,  recalling 
all  the  incidents  that  he  could  glean  from  memory. 
Of  course  the  animal  protects  its  young,  the  mother 
suckles  it,  but  this  over,  the  time  for  nursing  past, 
does  the  parental  instinct  disappear  and  another 
take  its  place,  this  much  boasted  affection  resolving 
itself  either  into  friendship  or  indifference  ?  From 
the  data  at  hand  he  could  hardly  make  up  his  mind 
and  became  agnostic  upon  the  question  at  once. 

Second,  "Is  there  such  a  thing  as  loyalty  unto 
death,  or  can  it  be  resolved  into  a  temporary  condi- 
.  tion  of  mind  which  new  faces  and  environment  are 
most  likely  to  dissipate  ?  ' '  He  sought  for  one 
datum  and  found  it  in  himself.  About  parental 
love  he  knew  nothing;  personally,  about  loyalty  he 
understood  a  great  deal.  If  he  could  be  true,  was 
it  not  the  height  of  egotism  to  presume  himself  to 
be  the  only  reliable  person  on  earth  ?  The  fact  that 
loyalty  was  possible  to  him  made  it  possible  to 
others  also.  He  had  no  hesitation  in  deciding  this 
question,  the  trait  of  loyalty  was  a  fact. 

Third,  "  Is  love  eternal?  "  That  love  is,  he  had 
proven  in  himself,  but  in  face  of  his  apparently  dead 
heart,  could  it  be  eternal.  He  recalled  that  his  con 
dition  was  now  purely  mental;  that  all  his  energy 
was  firing  the  furnace  of  his  brain;  that  his  will 
was  bent  upon  deciphering  a  problem  and  trans 
lating  the  cold  gaze  in  the  eyes  of  the  sphinx.  That 
his  heart,  should  grow  sluggish  in  its  beating  was 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH   347 

nothing  strange — the  reaction  to  emotion  was  bound 
to  come,  when  the  fever  heat  would  be  upon  him. 
"Is  love  immortal?"  In  the  sense  that  it  is 
always  somewhere,  he  said  to  himself,  "  yes;  but  to 
specialize  the  question — is  love  between  two  beings 
immortal,  do  they  not  shift  their  affections  as  they  do 
their  clothes,  can  one  man  and  one  woman  look  into 
each  other's  eyes  forever  through  aeons  of  time, 
must  they  not,  by  the  very  nature  of  life  itself, 
which  is  variety,  look  elsewhere  ? ' '  Then  he 
sought  for  data  ;  it  crowded  upon  and  buried  him. 
He  recalled  case  after  case,  even  in  his  own  short 
existence,  where  man,  honest  in  intent,  had  sworn 
eternal  fealty  and  been  false  to  the  vow.  He  had 
seen  a  husband  raining  tears  on  the  grave  of  the 
beloved,  and  twining  bridal  wreaths  in  the  young 
hair  of  another,  later  on.  An  eternal  love  is  love 
forever,  to  which  the  love  for  a  few  years  seems  but 
a  dot  in  the  circle,  and  yet  the  large  proportion  of 
these  immortal  lovers  were  seeking  divorces  and 
remarriage,  as  if  a  day  were  eternity  and  an  hour 
everlasting.  Alas  !  the  data  were  overwhelmingly 
in  favor  of  license  and  against  the  flimsy  hypoth 
esis  of  unsullied  constancy.  Yet  he  plunged 
deeper  into  subtleties.  "Did  an  eternal  love  deny 
to  him  who  experienced  it  a  realization  of  an 
other?  "  Because  one  is  always  the  same  to  him, 
an  environment,  a  response  that  never  changes  in 
its  effect,  does  that  imply  that  another  may  not 
have  its  individual  effect  also  and  call  forth  its  re- 


348  El,  RESH1D 

sponse  ?  Does  a  mother  love  but  one  of  her  child 
ren  ?  Are  they  not  all  dear  according  as  they  ap 
peal  to  and  draw  out  the  mother  nature  that 
intoxicates  her  heart?  That  no  one  ever  takes 
another's  place  he  was  well  aware,  but  the  soul  of 
man  is  a  harp  of  many  strings,  and  the  musician  ! 
a  L,iszt  plays  his  own  melody,  which  is  not  that  of 
a  Mozart.  By  logic  he  grasped  it.  "  Love  is  im 
mortal. "  The  individual  Rhea,  not  the  shifting 
phantasmal,  but  the  true,  the  eternal,  meant  a 
something  to  him,  that  realized  once,  was  his  for 
ever  ;  though  she  marry  Caesar  Catus,  the  vision 
of  the  Nile  was  his  through  the  aeons  of  time ; 
though  she  doubt  and  apparently  forget,  in  the  still 
depths  of  memory  the  song  of  "  the  forever  "  must 
echo  and  echo  as  long  as  she  were  Rhea. 

In  this  mental  debate  he  disdained  the  question 
of  a  bodily  marriage  or  a  physical  contact ;  he  was 
delving  into  the  logic  of  love,  the  subtlety,  the 
principle ;  he  was  dealing  with  environment, 
which  meant  places  and  beings  other  than  Aleppo 
— everlasting  mirrors  that  threw  himself  back  to 
himself  eternally.  He  might  in  time  meet  women 
who  would  thrill  his  heart  and  reveal  to  him  his 
soul,  but,  strange  !  an  innumerable  number  must 
necessarily  emphasize  Rhea,  who  would  throw  him 
farewell  kisses  while  memory  lasted. 

One  more  question — the  final  problem — the 
Propylon  ?  "  Was  the  flood  of  light  a  delusion— a 
St.  Paul  dream?  No., "  he  said  emphatically, 


FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  NAKED  TRUTH   349 

"no."  The  fact  that  I  sit  here  and  weigh  these 
questions,  the  fact  that  I  have  tny  grip  upon  the 
sphinx,  the  fact  that  logic  plays  me  true  and  reason 
holds  the  reins,  the  vanquished  desert,  the  broken 
statues,  the  rejected  harlot  all  verify  the  lightning 
which  struck  me  there.  Yet,  he  remembered  the 
teachers  of  opposing  cults,  the  leaders  of  contending 
religions,  the  priests  of  different  doctrines,  the 
worshipers  of  idols,  the  Moslem,  the  Buddhist,  the 
Brahmin,  the  Parsee,  the  Christian,  all  claiming 
the  same  enlightment  and  swearing  to  the  same 
experience.  If  light  flashes  in  green  tints  on  one, 
in  yellow  on  another,  and  blue  on  a  third,  though 
the  fire  which  caused  the  same  be  undeniable,  the 
effect  and  condition  produced  is  far  different.  One 
beholds  naught  but  the  yawning  abyss  of  a  sul 
phurous  hell,  while  another  gazes  on  a  heavenly 
star ;  one  sees  but  palpitating  ethers,  and  another 
the  sun-kissed  moon.  So  there  with  his  experience, 
he  took  no  issue,  but  what  the  light  of  himself 
would  reveal  later  must  necessarily  depend  upon 
the  strength  and  power  of  his  eyes.  Light  implies 
a  revelation  of  truth  of  some  sort,  either  good  or 
bad,  while  darkness  necessitates  ignorance  and 
doubt. 

All  this  time  Aleppo  sat  with  his  head  buried  in 
his  hands,  but  now,  his  mind  strengthened  by  the 
icy  tonic  of  thought,  with  an  air  of  mastership  he 
arose  to  his  feet.  He  had  been  face  to  face  with 
naked  truth  ;  for  the  time  abjuring  sentiment,  and 


250  lO,  RiCSHID 

looked  into  the  eyes  of  bitter  fact,  and  he,  too,  had 
stripped  himself ;  tossing  off  one  after  another,  his 
garments  of  imagination,  fancy,  theory,  hypothesis, 
illusion.  As  nude  as  despoiled  nature,  as  bare  as 
an  athlete,  he  had  entered  the  arena  with  his  an 
tagonists  and  fought  the  battle  out  ;  passing  from 
person  to  principle,  he  had  wrestled  at  last  with  the 
Almighty  itself,  which  was  the  Reason  of  reasons, 
and  never  varying  law. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
THE  HOUNDS. 

l<  Here's  a  private  note  from  Catus,"  said  Regan, 
and  finding  a  chair  near  Sallus,  he  read  the  letter 
out  loud. 
DEAR  REGAN: 

I  must  be  more  explicit ;  I  hurried  you  off  to 
Stamboul  without  giving  you  sufficient  instructions 
as  to  the  course  you  had  better  pursue.  In  the 
first  place  let  me  say  that  Aleppo  is  in  Constantin 
ople  ;  it  is  a  presumption  founded  on  the  nature  of 
Issachar,  and  what  has  been  known  of  him  in  the 
past.  The  Jew  owns  houses,  stores,  and  bazaars 
in  all  the  great  centers  and  has  a  thousand  good 
places  in  which  to  conceal  our  friend.  I  have  said 
that  we  believed  Aleppo  to  be  in  Constantinople, 
because  of  the  nature  of  Issachar  ;  I  must  also  add 
for  the  sake  of  honesty,  that  through  a  certain  let- 


THE  HOUNDS  351 

ter  lately  arrived,  I  have  received  hints  that  this  is 
a  fact.  How  many  residences  Issachar  has  in 
Stamboul,  I  do  not  know  ;  to'  look  for  the  young 
man  there,  is  like  "  searching  for  a  needle  in  a 
hay-mow." 

The  properties  of  Issachar  may  be  booked  under 
another  name,  and  should  you  see  the  Jew  himself, 
it  would  be  absurd  to  lay  hands  on  him,  as  by  so 
doing,  we  would  put  Aleppo  forever  out  of  our 
reach.  Issachar  has  agents  on  every  street  in 
Constantinople,  and  has  but  to  wink,  cough,  or 
make  some  diabolical  signal,  for  swift  emissaries  to 
understand  and  do  his  bidding.  So  then,  if  you 
see  him,  arid  you  are  likely  to  do  so,  for  he  goes 
everywhere  boldly,  track  him  from  haunt  to  haunt, 
and  trust  to  instinct  to  do  the  rest,  as  I  advised  in 
Cairo.  Shall  be  on  the  ground  later. 

Yours, 

CATUS. 


"  I  don't  see  as  there's  much  of  an  element 
here,  except  luck  and  chance;  it  sifts  itself  down 
to  this,  it  you  see  the  Jew,  or  I  see  the  Jew,  get  on 
his  scent  and  hound  him.  We  might  be  here  till 
doomsday,  though,  and  never  catch  sight  of  him; 
he's  a  striking  figure  everywhere,  but  in  Stamboul 
they're  all  striking,  if  I  know  myself.  I  suppose  I 
could  track  him  by  his  footprints  if  I  were  hound 
enough;  why,  of  course,  I  have  it,  I'll  hire  an 
oriental  detective  —  there're  lots  of  them,  must  be  — 


352  EL  RESHID 

I'll  pay  him  a  fortune,  it's  easy  enough;  get  a  Jew 
after  a  Jew,  of  course,  money '11  fetch  them,  besides, 
if  I  can  rope  one  of  them  in,  he'll  locate  Issa- 
char's  house,  stores  and  so  forth;  a  man  can't  own 
property  like  that  and  keep  in  the  dark.' ' 

They  had  just  arrived  in  Constantinople  and 
taken  a  room  together,  intending  to  live  in 
Bohemian  fashion,  as  they  had  done  in  Cairo, 
and  hardly  had  had  time  to  wash  their  faces 
when  Caesar  Catus'  letter  was  handed  to  them. 
An  hour  or  two  later  they  were  haunting 
Jew  shops  and  certain  other  suggestive  quarters 
in  search  of  the  right  man  for  the  right 
place;  at  last  they  found  him,  and  though  he  spoke 
in  a  jargon  of  tongues  we  will  strive  to  clear  the 
mixture  into  Anglo-Saxon,  and  though  not  pidgeon 
English,  it  is  perhaps  a  combination  of  words  that 
can  be  made  out. 

"Have  you  ever  done  detective  work?"  said 
Regan,  after  he  had  shown  the  Jew  the  color  of  his 
palm,  and  explained  the  object  of  his  call. 

"  Me  shinning  after  my  blasted  brother  on  my 
four  legs,  like  a  rodent." 

"That's  just  it." 

"  Nay,  but  once  I  wriggled  across  a  room  on 
the  place  where  I  digest." 

"  Ah,  a  worm,  hey  ?  " 

1 '  I  steal  an  epistle  from  the  pocket  of  a  dissenter 
when  he  had  not  yet  closed  his  eyes,  and  he  was 
not  comprehending." 


THE   HOUNDS  353 

"  So,  so,  you'll  do;  you  must  be  extra." 

"Extra  pay,  most  certainly  I'll  do,  for  extra 
moneys — extra  moneys." 

He  had  an  enormous  nose,  retreating  chin  and 
forehead,  rat-like  eyes,  slim  hands,  and,  strange  to 
say,  his  name  was  Isaac." 

"  Issachar  and  Isaac  are  somewhat  alike,"  said 
Sallus. 

"  I  have  the  name  of  the  patriarch;  Abraham 
was  my  father  and  Jacob  my  brother." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Jew,  Jacob  Issachar  ?"  asked 
Regan,  getting  down  to  business. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him  much;  if  I  make  no  mistake 
he  is  Jehovah." 

"Great  Scott!  that's  blasphemy,"  said  Regan. 

"He  have  moneys,  houses  and  lands,  he  is 
almighty." 

"  Well  now's  your  chance  Isaac,  I  want  to  make 
the  tour  of  premises;  if  you'll  but  show  me  the  way, 
to-night  we'll  saunter  down  in  this  direction;  be  on 
hand;  just  one  house  after  another  to  say  nothing 
of  the  shops;  understand — you  shall  be  well  paid." 

"But  the  great  man,  I  will  not  meet;  I  put  up 
the  fence  there,  nobody  shall  force  me  to  see  the 
great  man." 

"  How  much  will  you  take  to  interview  him?  " 

"Nay,  nay" — Isaac  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
spread  his  palms. 

"  Well  so  be  it;  remember,  to-night,  sharp  !  " 

"Isaac  led  them  a  pretty  life;  he   ferreted   out 


354  EI<  RESHID 

place  after  place  which  he  ascribed  to  Issachar; 
spending  weeks  at  it,  and  they  had  a  taste  of  a  side 
of  Stamboul  that  they  would  never  have  taken  from 
choice;  yet  the  experience  was  wonderful,  interest 
ing.  Partially  disguised,  assuming  the  greasy  un 
washed  look  of  the  mongrel,  they  haunted  alley 
ways,  stole  into  back  yards,  made  friends  with  in 
numerable  combines  of  dogs,  escaped  officers,  were 
sworn  at  and  swore,  tortured  their  stomachs  with 
dyspeptic  viands,  peeped  into  windows,  crawled  on 
their  hands  and  knees,  looked  under  the  cracks  of 
doors,  tried  duplicate  keys,  practised  with  burglars 
tools,  slept  in  the  daytime  and  prowled  at  night, 
learned  half  a  dozen  vernaculars,  flirted  with  buxom 
Jewesses,  and  were  as  utterly  Bohemian  as  the  very 
dogs  of  the  street  who  took  great  interest  in  their 
proceedings,  and  aided  them  to  the  extent  of  their 
powers.  By  this  means  they  discovered  that 
Isaachar  had  vast  posession?.  One  house  to  which 
Isaac  took  them  made  a  great  impression;  although 
hard  to  distinguish  from  the  adjoining  residences, 
it  being  so  blent  in  and  united  to  them  that  "which 
was  which"  was  the  question,  this  however,  Isaac 
answered  directly  and  to  the  point. 

"  You  behold  the  structure,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  be  switched  if  I  do,"  answered  Regan. 

"  It  is  belligerent  somewhat  and  loaded  with  age; 
it  stoops  with  the  little  window  aperture,  and  com 
mences  with  the  gargoyle;  it  is  the  house  of 


THE   HOUNDS  355 

Issachar,  whose  mother  you  have  certified  was 
Leah." 

"The  blamed  thing  is  not  clear  yet,"  replied 
Regan. 

It  was  already  twilight  and  the  men  had  to  strain 
their  eyes  to  discover  the  fine  distinctions  which 
Isaac  was  so  patiently  trying  to  show  them. 

"  Come  with  me  from  behind,  the  alley  is  the  near 
vicinity  to  the  cellar  window.  I  would  show  you 
that  one  window." 

The  three  men  skulked  around  in  the  shadow  in 
the  rear  alley,  and  Isaac  triumphantly  designated 
the  barred  glass  of  the  wine  cellar  which  dis 
tinguished  the  house  of  Issachar  from  its  two 
neighbors. 

'*  That  one  window  show  you  the  variety;  that 
one  window  go  to  the  dungeon." 

"What!  " 

"Yes.  Issachar  keeps  the  grape  juice  and  the 
prisoner  together  ;  the  prisoner  gets  into  the  bran 
dies  and  the  brandies  get  into  the  prisoner." 

"  That  is  they  get  even,"  said  Regan. 

"Yes,  they  even  upward;  first,  the  prisoner 
crack  the  bottle,  and  then  the  bottle  crack  him  ; 
they  discover  satisfaction,  both." 

"  I  wonder  if  we  couldn't  get  into  that  cellar  and 
rescue  whatever  prisoner  might  be  pining,"  said 
Regan. 

"  Wait  you  till  the  moon  subside,  I  would  re 
commend  one  barrel  in  which  to  crawl — all." 


356  EL  RESSlt) 

"Not  much!"  said  Regan,  "I  prefer  going 
away  and  coming  back  later."  So  they  strolled 
over  the  adjoining  streets  till  the  moon  "subsided" 
and  then  returned  to  the  barred  window,  which  ex 
erted  great  fascination  upon  them.  It  was  on  the 
line  of  the  alley  which,  at  that  hour,  was  shrouded 
in  darkness. 

"  Now  you  keep  hushed,"  said  Isaac  in  a  tragic 
whisper.  "  If  there  be  one  prisoner  I  will  exhort 
him." 

Regan  and  Sallus  crowded  close  together  and 
put  their  ears  to  the  pane,  while  Isaac  tapped 
softly  on  the  glass  ;  silence — no  answer. 

"If  there  be  one  prisoner  here  I  will  inform 
him;  you  hush  up  your  tongues." 

He  tapped  again  ;  they  listened. 

' '  I  comprehend  that  I  hear  one  sound, ' '  said 
Isaac  ;  "hark,  and  breathe  you  no  air — what?  "  he 
rapped  faintly  a  third  time. 

"  Ah  !  I  apprehend  I  feel  a  prisoner." 

"  You  feel  him  ?  "  whispered  Regan. 

"Swallow  your  breath  up,"  said  Isaac  indig 
nantly,  "I'll  not  get  him  alive  this  way."  He 
tapped  again. 

They  all  heard  it  now — a  faint  answer,  as  though 
some  one  had  thrown  a  bit  of  dirt  from  the  inside 
of  the  cellar  at  the  glass. 

"  The  window  must  be  high  up  from  the 
ground,"  said  Sallus. 


THE  HOUNDS  357 

"That  is  one  dungeon;  the  foundation  of  the 
house  of  Issachar  is  a  hole." 

A  half  dozen  dogs,  more  or  less,  started  a  fight 
in  the  alley  contiguous  to  the  three  men,  and  made 
so  much  havoc  and  dust  that  it  was  impossible  for 
a  long  time  to  get  a  fair  chance  at  the  window ; 
when  stillness  was  restored  they  renewed  their 
efforts,  but,  receiving  no  response,  postponed  their 
investigation  till  the  next  night.  On  this  occasion 
they  left  the  Jew  behind.  Regan  tried  the  tap 
ping,  but  with  no  avail,  when  Sallus,  crouching 
close  to  the  pane,  whistled  an  old  air  that  he  and 
Aleppo  had  often  sung  together ;  then,  pressing 
his  ear  against  the  glass,  caught  what  seemed  like 
the  echo  of  a  far-off  trill. 

"  That's  L,ep  !  "  said  Sallus,  so  excited  that  he 
could  hardly  speak  ;  "  nobody  on  earth  can  whistle 
like  him— -nobody." 

Regan,  with  trembling  fingers,  tapped  again,  and 
a  pebble  from  the  inside  answered  the  salute. 

"  There's  no  mistake,  he  remembers  the  song  and 
recognizes  us.  I  expect  that  before  he  imagined 
some  street  boy  was  playing  him  a  trick." 

Callus  whistled  again  and  again,  and  called  out 
responses  from  the  depths  below;  to  be  sure  they 
might  be  mistaken,  possibly  the  prisoner  was  not 
Aleppo,  "  yet  why  on  earth  does  he  recognize  and 
answer  my  signal  whistle  ?"  he  said. 

One  thing  they  soon  discovered,  that  where  the 
window  was  set  in  the  stone  a  small  aperture, 


358  EL  RESHID 

large  enough  to  allow  the  passage  of  the  body  of 
a  rat,  had  been  left,  making  an  opening  through 
which  the  whistling  was  heard. 

"  This  foolishness  might  go  on  forever,"  said 
Sallus,  "let's  write  a  note  and  stick  it  in  that 
hole.  We  can  push  it  through  and  come  to-mor 
row;  if  the  prisoner  is  Lep  he'll  manage  to  climb 
up  there  and  put  in  an  answer." 

"  Right  you  are,  we  never  can  see  him  night 
nor  day  through  that  ground  glass  window;  the 
postoffice  is  the  business — got  a  pencil,  Sal?" 

The  two  men  went  into  an  eating  house,  some 
distance  away,  and  ordering  coffee  as  a  blind, 
wrote  the  following  note: 

' '  Aleppo  Bracciolini ; 

"  If  you  are  in  that  cellar,  for  the  love  of  God 
answer  this  note  ;  manage  somehow  to  get  your 
paper  into  the  aperture  by  the  window  and  we'll 
fish  it  out. 

Loyal  to  the  death, 

REGAN  AND  SALLUS." 

They  went  again  to  the  charmed  spot  and 
crowded  the  little  message  into  the  opening,  mak 
ing  sure  that  it  had  got  somewhere  into  the  depths 
below. 

"I  expect  he'll  not  discover  it  till  morning," 
said  Regan,  as  they  entered  their  room,  "  then  he'll 
answer  and  manage  to  reach  us  if  I  know  him." 

"  Suppose,  after  all,  it's  somebody  else  ?  " 


THE  HOUNDS  359 

"  If  it  is,  we'll  rescue  that  somebody,  but  it  isn't; 
it  stands  to  reason  it  is  Aleppo;  in  the  first  place 
Issachar  has  got  him  in  Stamboul;  in  the  second, 
that  cellar's  the  best  hiding  place  we've  found  yet; 
in  the  third,  he  whistled  your  tune  back  to  you; 
what  more  do  you  want  ?  " 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  satisfied,  but  we've 
been  disappointed  so  many  times  that  I'm  growing 
pessimistic." 

"  Time  will  tell,  now  you  contain  yourself  till 
to-morrow  night,  and  we'll  know." 

"  Perhaps  he's  chained." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,  but  I  don't  believe  it. 
How  on  earth  if  he  were,  did  he  manage  to  hit  the 
glass  so  true  with  his  pebble  stones  ?  Don't  you 
worry,  it'll  turn  out  all  right,  sure." 

Aleppo  had  adapted  himself  to  the  wine  cellar 
without  difficulity;  he  had  been  deprived  of  his 
freedom  for  so  long  a  time  that  to  an  extent  he 
wrought  out  of  his  environment,  wherever  it  might 
be,  a  new  world.  He  investigated  and  explored 
every  part  of  the  spacious  excavation,  and  had 
found  innumerable  things  to  engage  and  interest 
him.  He  cultivated  rats  and  mice  by  feeding  and 
other  allurements,  watched  the  artistic  and  wonder 
ful  spiders  that  seemed  to  be  spinning  things  of 
beauty  for  himself  alone,  explored  the  old  rubbish 
piles  and  studied  out  a  half  dozen  plans  for  escap 
ing,  which,  somehow,  he  had  no  desire  to  carry  for 
ward.  His  food,  of  the  plainest,  was  served  three 


360  EL,  RESHID 

times  a  day,  by  a  hump-backed  old  man,  who 
looked  as  though  his  mission  had  been  that  of  a 
rag-picker  since  he  first  began  to  walk.  He  was 
slovenly,  filthy  and  taciturn,  never  deigning  to 
answer  the  young  man's  questions  except  with  a 
grunt  or  a  snarl.  Though  Aleppo  fully  intended  to 
get  away  from  the  rat-hole  later,  if  it  lay  within 
his  power,  thus  far  he  had  only  made  plans,  because 
of  the  work  he  was  striving  to  do  upon  himself, 
toward  which  he  found  this  sombre  isolation  espec 
ially  conducive. 

The  time  had  now  arrived,  however,  when  he 
was  ready  for  freedom  and  he  determined  to  have 
it.  He  had  discovered  in  the  cellar,  barrels  and 
boxes  sufficient  to  make  it  possible  to  reach  the 
window  through  which  he  felt  sure  he  could  make 
his  exit,  sooner  or  later,  and  never  being  interrupted 
except  by  the  humpback,  there  were  hours  in  which 
he  could  work  at  the  bars  with  an  improvised  file 
that  he  had  already  secreted. 

One  night  as  he  was  falling  asleep  he  dreamed 
in  his  half  doze  that  Sallus  and  Regan,  beaming 
with  the  old  love  and  friendship,  had  entered  the 
cellar  and  taken  him  bodily,  through  the  aperture 
in  the  wall,  out  into  the  street.  He  seemed  in  his 
vision,  to  have  dwindled  to  the  size  of  a  rat,  which 
they  found  no  difficulty  in"  dragging  through  the 
hole  ;  suddenly,  as  though  touched  by  some  one, 
he  sat  up  in  bed  as  wide  a  wake  as  he  had  ever  been 
in  his  life  ;  the  cellar  was  dark  and  he  had  no 


THE   HOUNDS  3^1 

means  by  which  to  strike  a  light  ;  he  listened  in 
tently,  for  such  a  waking  as  that  implied  something 
extraordinary.  In  a  moment  he  heard  a  faint  tap, 
tap,  tap  ;  it  came  from  the  direction  of  the  case 
ment,  which  was  a  long  distance  from  the  bed. 
This  rapping  continued,  intermittently,  till  Aleppo 
arose,  and  finding  at  his  feet  a  bit  of  hard  earth, 
made  his  way,  by  instinct,  in  the  direction  of  the 
window,  and  strove  to  hit  the  faint  blur  of  glass 
with  this  lump  of  dirt.  Once  or  twice  he  thought 
he  had  succeeded,  for  the  tapping  seemed  to  come 
in  answer,  but  later  it  ceased  altogether,  and  silence 
reigned  as  before. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  young  Romanes 
that  night.  At  first  he  felt  sure  that  some 
friend  had  discovered  his  prison  and  come  to  his 
rescue,  but  later,  in  cold  thought,  he  concluded 
that  he  might  have  been  too  hasty  ;  a  child,  or  a 
mischievous  person,  from  pure  wantonness,  was 
just  as  likely  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  this  ;  however, 
when  the  raps  were  repeated  the  next  night,  and 
the  next,  his  hopes  grew  apace.  The  effect  of 
Sallus'  whistle  was  like  a  re-birth  ;  when  Aleppo 
heard  the  old  college  tune  that  they  had  sung 
together,  he  cried  like  a  child — "  Loyal  to  the  death, ' ' 
he  said,  as  the  tears  gushed  to  his  eyes.  "  Regan 
— Sallus  !  And  there's  nothing  between  us  but 
this  stone  wall ;  once  I  doubted  even  you,  O  God, 
forgive  me  ! " 

He  was  so  happy  the  next   day,  and  his   heart 


3G2  EL,  RKSHID 

was  so  light  that  he  sang  and  whistled  as  he  used 
to  do  in  the  old  time  in  Stamboul.  The  hump-back 
looked  at  him  suspiciously,  for  Aleppo's  eyes  were 
brilliant  and  his  look  illuminated.  He  had  his 
boxes  and  barrel  handy  and  in  striving  to  adjust 
their  height  to  the  window  he  discovered  a  bit  of 
paper  which  had  a  fresh  look  about  it,  quite  foreign 
to  the  condition  of  other  articles  in  the  place.  It 
was  the  note  of  Regan.  He  had  known  happiness 
many  times  in  his  life  ;  like  all  trusting  natures,  he 
had  believed  in  his  friends  and  looked  upon  it  as  a 
crime  to  doubt  them,  but  when  he  opened  the 
twisted  billet  and  rested  his  eyes  again  on  the  well 
known  writing  of  Regan  he  was  intoxicated  with 
rapture;  he  wondered  if  he  would  have  been  so 
true,  so  faithful,  himself,  if  he  had  that  same  capac 
ity  of  devotion  which  these  two  had  shown. 
Months  had  passed  since  he  had  vanished  at  Kar- 
nak,  and  yet  they  were  on  his  track  ;  their  trip 
had  been  abandoned,  pleasure  forgotten,  ail  for 
himself. 

He  was  intoxicated  with  the  rapture  of  grati 
tude  and,  bursting  with  a  desire  to  express  it,  he 
climbed  to  the  window,  but  no  one  was  there. 
Dimly,  through  the  aperture,  he  beheld  the  dull 
ground  of  the  alley — ah  !  he  could  write  !  All  day 
he  spent  at  it,  tearing  up  one  note  after  another,  as 
he  found  old  scraps  of  paper,  feeling  that  each  but 
feebly  expressed  his  love  and  longing.  At  last  it 
resolved  itself  into  this,  and  this  only  ; 


S.1TAN  363 

"  I  am  dumb  with  gratitude. 

Yours  forever, 

"ALEPPO  ROMANES." 

He  deposited  the  message  in  the  secret  receptacle 
and,  when  morning  arrived,  discovered  that  it  had 
vanished. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
SATAN. 

From  the  time  that  the  first  notes  were  ex 
changed  between  Regan  and  Aleppo  a  constant 
correspondence  had  been  kept  up  and  all  arrange 
ments  made  for  the  young  man's  escape.  Regan 
and  Sail  us  were  obliged  to  work  secretly  and 
mostly  in  the  dark,  for  the  alley  was  constantly 
traversed  by  individuals  whose  attention  was  more 
or  less  attracted  to  them. 

The  night  for  which  the  escape  had  been  planned 
was  propitious  ;  a  drizzling,  disagreeable  rain  was 
falling,  the  clouds  above  causing  the  alley  to  be 
shrouded  in  darkness.  Sallus  allowed  himself 
about  an  hour  and  a  half  for  the  filing  of  the  bars  ; 
at  some  distance  from  him,  on  either  side,  Regan 
and  Isaac  acted  as  sentinels,  and,  by  a  pre-arranged 
signal,  stood  in  readiness  to  warn  him  of  the  ap 
proach  of  danger. 

The  dogs  of  that  special  locality  had  become  so 
accustomed  to  the  three  prowlers  that  they  united 


364  EI<  RESHID 

themselves  with  them  as  friends  and  allies,  feeling 
a  secret  kinship  which  they  strove  silently  to 
express. 

Sallus  expected  to  work  from  midnight  till  after 
one  in  the  morning,  when,  as  had  been  previously 
arranged,  Aleppo  was  to  break  the  thick  window 
pane  and  make  good  his  escape  from  the  house  of 
Issachar. 

When  Romanes  heard  the  first  rasp  of  the  file,  he 
thrilled  with  the  ecstasy  of  liberty.  He  had 
climbed  upon  the  boxes,  placed  his  ear  to  the  glass, 
and  for  an  hour  had  remained  almost  rigid  before 
any  sound  was  heard.  He  felt  sure  that  he  had 
failed  in  comprehending  the  time,  as  he  had  no 
means  by  which  to  do  so,  save  that  of  instinct,  he 
rightly  conjectured  the  cause  of  delay.  Yet  his 
anxiety  was  so  intense  that  he  thought,  as  he  stood 
there,  of  a  thousand  things  that  might  have 
happened  to  prevent  his  escape.  His  friends  for 
aught  he  knew  were  already  arrested  and  incarcer 
ated,  and  Issachar  possibly  had  acquired  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  whole  scheme.  He  glued  his  ear  to  the 
glass  and  every  sound  in  the  alley  set  his  heart  to 
beating  with  alternate  spasms  of  hope  and  fear. 
At  last  the  dull  heavy  rasp  of  the  file  !  He  remem 
bered  the  powerful  muscles  of  Sallus  and  felt  that 
his  friend's  very  sinews  were  on  the  bars.  Between 
him  and  liberty,  stood  the  Adonis  of  his  boyish 
dreams.  His  whole  life  with  his  young  friend — 
their  days  of  frolic  and  travel  passed  before  his 


SATAN  365 

mental  glance;  he  recalled  the  picture  of  Scutari 
ages  ago,  so  it  seemed,  when  he  and  Sallus  had 
fought  out  the  question  of  the  flask,  which  the  half 
inebriated  boy  had  bequeathed  in  the  irony  of  his 
bitterness  to  a  helpless  corpse.  Sallus  !  Sallus  ! — 
and  here  he  was  risking  his  own  liberty  with  every 
grate  of  the  steel  which  ripped  open  the  bars  that 
cut  his  friend  off  from  the  joys  of  life.  When  for 
an  instant  the  noise  subsided,  Aleppo's  heart 
stopped  with  it,  to  start  again  with  a  bound  at  the 
welcome  sound.  It  was  the  longest  hour  that  he 
had  ever  experienced,  the  most  tantalizing,  terrible. 
All  the  memories  of  his  past  thronged  upon  him  as 
though  to  rend  him  asunder.  A  possible  future  was 
scarcely  more  than  formed  ere  it  would  dwindle  and 
vanish  to  be  replaced  by  Issachar — -Issachar,  whose 
hyena  teeth  flashed  in  the  black  deeps  of  his  mind, 
like  the  ultimate  instruments  of  doom;  and  while 
these  hellish  visions  came  and  went,  interspersed  by 
gleams  of  azure  skies,  soft  vales  and  swaying  trees, 
he  still  heard  distinctly  and  reassuringly,  the  steady 
rasp  of  the  file  as  one  iron  after  another  yielded  to 
the  muscle  and  brawn  of  Sallus,  who  neither 
wavered  nor  paused  for  rest. 

There  were  six  bars;  the  last  act  was  to  be  per 
formed  quickly;  at  a  signal  tap  from  the  outside,  the 
pane  was  to  be  broken  and  Aleppo  drawn  forth.  It 
came — three  sharp  quick  raps  wrhich  Aleppo 
followed  immediately  by  a  blow  that  shattered  the 
glass,  when  from  the  deeps  of  the  dungeon,  from 


365 

the   abyss   of  darkness — ' '  ha  !    ha  !    ha  !    ha  !  ha  ! 
ha!" 

Before  Aleppo  could  realize  how  it  was  done,  the 
structure  of  boxes  was  knocked  from  under  him, 
and  pinioned  by  two  powerful  men  he  was  hurried 
from  the  place  into  a  dimly  lighted  apartment  where 
stood  Issachar,  immaculate,  sardonic,  superb. 

We  seek  in  vain  for  martyrs  among  the  free.  At 
last  Romanes,  who  had  conquered  isolation  and 
vanquished  the  demon  of  luxury,  was  honored  with 
martyrdom,  which  is  the  acme  test  of  character  and 
the  finality  of  pain. 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  Issachar — the  saddest  eyes 
the  Jew  had  ever  seen  ;  even  he  who  forgot  all  else 
that  throbbed  with  sorrow  or  gasped  with  agony, 
even  he  in  after  years  remembered  them, 

"  Wouldst  thou  know  me?"  said  Issachar; 
"completely,  entirely,  I  am  Satan!  "  His  voice 
grew  to  a  full  falsetto.  "  Be  mine,  and  all  things 
shall  be  given  unto  thee  ;  rebel,  and  thou  art 
crucified." 

Extremes  meet.  A  soft  glamour  of  happiness 
stole  over  Aleppo  like  the  unseen  kiss  of  spring 
that  warms  her  lover's  lips  ;  he  had  realized  the 
limit  of  suffering,  which  means  bliss — bliss  ;  again 
he  dreamed  the  Syrian  dream  and  warmed  to  the 
heart  of  El  Reshid,  as  the  great  warm  to  the  great. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  Thou  dost  imagine  that  the  God  of 
the  Jews  will  come  to  thy  deliverance,  or  that  the 
fabled  autocrat  of  a  fickle  Order  will  snatch  thee 


SATAN  367 

from  the  grip  of  Issachar — ha,  ha  !  Thou  knowest 
not  Satan,  whose  mark  is  on  thee,  and  whose 
child  thou  art,  By  proxy  he  would  sin  through 
thee ;  on  thy  gluttony  and  debauchery  would 
he  regale  himself ;  his  beak  he  would  dip 
into  thy  rotten  carcass  ;  a  dainty  bit  shalt 
thou  be  for  one  whose  robe  is  spotless  and  whose 
body  is  clean. 

"  Aleppo  Romanes,  a  respite,  and  afterward,  tor 
ture — begone  !  " 

He  was  hurried  away — and  the  light  extin 
guished. 

Outside  stood  Sallus  ;  at  the  smashing  of  the 
glass  he  had  reached  through  the  aperture  and 
found  nothing.  His  disappointment  was  terrible  ; 
he  forced  his  head  and  arms  into  the  cellar,  and  dar 
ingly  struck  a  match  ;  the  wreck  of  the  boxes  was 
beneath  him,  and  the  great  vault.  He  lighted  a 
bit  of  caudle,  which  he  had  purposely  brought,  and 
examined  the  excavation  as  far  as  his  eyes  could 
reach.  The  straw  pallet  of  Aleppo,  the  stone  table, 
the  broken  pitcher,  all  thrust  themselves  at  him  to 
torture  with  their  pathos,  but  the  prisoner,  gone  ! 
Then  Regan  jerked  him  by  the  shoulder,  and  said, 
emphatically,  in  an  excited  whisper— 

"  Put  that  light  out  will  you — quick  ! — run!  " 

The  unusual  spectacle  had  attracted  some  curious 
night  prowlers,  from  whom  Sallus  and  his  col 
leagues  escaped  as  best  they  could,  to  meet  later, 


388  EL  RESHID 

in  their  room,  in  a  disheveled  and  unhappy  con 
dition. 

"  That  blasted  Jew  has  beaten  me  again."  Regan 
for  the  first  time  in  the  hunt,  looked  the  picture  of 
despair. 

"  Now,"  said  Sallus,  a  peculiar  expression  in  his 
eyes,  "patience,  chicanery,  double  dealing,  and 
underhand  play,  cease  to  be  virtuous  ;  from  this 
time  on,  I  shall  go  it  open.' '  He  took  his  revolver 
from  his  pocket  and  looked  down  into  the  barrel — 
"  I'll  hound  that  Jew  to  hell  and  shoot  him  like  a 
dog." 

"  And  then  you  will  get  punished  yourself," 
said  Isaac  ;  "the  authorities  will  make  you  dead 
and  buried." 

"I  hope  they  will  put  up  a  headstone — "  Sallus 
was  raging. 

"They  will  put  up  no  tombstone;  one  good 
moneys  is  better  than  marble.  You  should  have 
the  young  man  yet ;  you  have  no  patience  ;  moneys 
will  fetch  that  young  man  ;  you  bribe  those  author 
ities  ;  money  is  greater  than  Issachar  ;  you  give 
those  authorities  moneys  and  the  Jew  will  give 
them  the  young  man." 

"  What  authorities  on  earth,  are  you  talking 
about  ?  "  all  out  of  patience. 

' '  Those  officials — all  ;  for  moneys  they  attack 
the  Almighty,  that  is  Jehovah,  that  is  Issachar  ;  for 
moneys  they  dig  out  the  bowels  of  the  planet,  and 
pluck  those  lights  out  of  the  sky  ;  for  moneys  they 


SATAN  369 

steal  from  the  Satan,  and  burn  up  the  mosques  of 
Stamboul.  You  have  much  moneys,  you  get  that 
young  man." 

At  this  juncture  the  door  opened  and  Caesar  Catus, 
in  his  traveling  attire,  and  dusty  from  a  long 
journey,  stood  on  the  threshold  arid  extended  his 
hand — 

"So  you  have  lost  him  again  ?  " 

The  hounds  were  a  wretched  pair  ;  in 
muddy  bedraggled  garments,  a  sort  of  mongrel  dis 
guise,  with  dirty  hands  and  faces,  unkempt  hair 
and  half  grown  beards,  they  presented  about  as  dis 
reputable  an  appearance  as  any  two  Bohemians  that 
ever  made  a  night  of  it. 

No  matter  about  Sallus  !  He  was  bound  to  be 
handsome,  but  Regan  had  no  touch  of  beauty  left. 

"I'm  afraid  this  time  it's  forever,"  said  the 
Yankee. 

Catus  teemed  with  energy  that  spoke  from  his 
very  fingers,  and  the  fagged  men  took  new  heart. 
He  dismissed  Isaac,  turned  up  the  light,  and, 
touching  a  match  to  the  wood  in  the  grate,  put  a 
cheerful  aspect  on  things  at  once.  "Go  and  have 
a  good  wash,"  he  said,  "  get  into  Christian  gar 
ments  and  come  back." 

Mechanically  they  obeyed,  to  return  in  fifteen 
minutes,  still  unshaved,  but  otherwise  looking 
quite  themselves. 

"  I  have  come  to  request  you  to  give  up  this 
hunt." 


370  EL,  RESHID 

"  Never  !"  saidSallus,  shutting  his  teeth  in  bull 
dog  fashion. 

"  I  urged  you  to  go  into  it, "  went  on  Catus  un 
moved,  "  and  now  I  urge  you  to  get  out  of  it." 

"  Why  do  you  set  us  on  in  this  way  only  to  make 
fools  of  us  ? '  ''said  Sallus,  still  angry. 

"  Cool  up  a  little  and  I'll  tell  you.  In  the  first 
place,  when  I  started  you  on  the  scent  I  didn't 
know  as  much  as  I  do  now,  that's  one  reason  ;  in 
the  second,  you've  done  your  work,  audit's  a  great 
one." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Regan. 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  nothing  to  restore  Aleppo's 
confidence  in  human  nature  and  to  fill  his  heart 
with  gratitude  ?  You  have  done  a  great  work,  I 
say,  and  to  you  I  shall  communicate  some  of  the 
secrets  and  objects  of  the  Order  of  the  Olympians 
and  the  cult  of  Romanes.  Great  in  victory,  for  you 
have  won.  Rest  now,  contented,  till  you  hear 
from  me  again." 

"And  shall  we  do  nothing  ?  "  said  Sallus,  much 
sobered,  "  nothing  at  all  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  given  Aleppo 
up,  do  you  ?  "  put  in  Regan,  alarmed. 

' '  Never  !  he  is  a  Romanes. ' ' 

"  I  can't  understand  your  manner  of  cool  cer 
tainty.  We  used  to  feel  that  way,  Regan  and  I, 
but  we  don't  any  more  ;  the  conceit  has  been  taken 
out  of  us,  every  bit,  hasn't  it,  Dad  ? ' ' 


THE  GREAT  ORDER  371 

"Sal  says  he'll  shoot  the  Jew;  what  do  you 
think  of  it  ?  "  asked  Regan. 

"  He  might  try,  but  I  expect  he  would  fail" — the 
same  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  ' '  Stay  here  in  old  Stam- 
boul,  rest  and  wait  for  me." 

Somehow  the  men  felt  more  comfortable  than 
they  had  thought  possible  an  hour  before  ;  Catus 
inspired  great  confidence. 

"  There's  one  consolation,"  he  said,  "we're  in 
the  same  boat— we  both  had  him,  when  lo,  he  was 
not." 

"  Isaac  says  moneys  will  fetch  him." 

"  Isaac  judges  everybody  by  himself,  and  he's 
not  far  wrong  either  ;  it's  a  pretty  safe  way  ; 
money  is  just  as  powerful  here  as  anywhere,  but 
Satan's  not  caught  on  a  gold  hook  ;  good  night." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 
THE   GREAT   ORDER. 

The  following  evening  Regan  and  Sallus  estab 
lished  themselves  before  a  fire  in  their  room,  hav 
ing  arranged  the  most  comfortable  chair  in  expecta 
tion  of  Catus,  who  had  promised  to  join  them. 

"  Guess  likely  these  cigars  will  be  good  enough," 
said  Regan,  reluctantly  placing  some  first-class 
Havanas  within  reach.  "  There  he  is  now." 

Catus  was  in  quite  a  different  mood  from  that  of 
the  night  before,  in  fact  his  atmosphere  was  as 


372  EL  RESHID 

varied  as  the  New  England  climate.  On  this 
particular  evening  he  was  in  a  communicative 
frame  of  mind— his  "tongue  had  been  oiled,"  he 
said. 

"  May  we  ask  questions?  "  said  Sallus. 

"  Certainly,  though  I'll  not  promise  to  answer 
them." 

Catus  took  the  easiest  chair — he  always  did — for, 
though  a  young  man,  he  was  treated  like  a  patri 
arch,  then;  raising  his  feet  on  a  stool  to  the  level  of 
his  hips,  he  "lighted  up"  and  smiled  good- 
naturedly  on  his  friends. 

"Now  pay  close  attention,  for  I'm  going  to  teach 
you  something  and  I'm  anxious  that  you  get  it  cor 
rectly. 

"There  are  any  number  of  orders  in  the  world  as 
of  course  you  know,  but  this  society  of  the  Olym 
pians,  while  a  decided  factor,  is  the  least  under 
stood  of  them  all.  In  the  first  place,  to  a  great 
extent  it  is  hermetic,  its  members  being  exceed 
ingly  cautious  in  their  communications.  Even  to 
you,  who  deserve  to  be  on  the  inside,  I  shall  tell 
but  little,  leaving  you  to  guess  as  much  more  as 
you  like. 

"Since  history,  men  have  found  that  if  they 
would  think  for  themselves  they  must  seal  their 
lips,  and  I  have  no  need  to  explain  to  you  the 
reason  of  this.  Wherever  the  church  and  state  are 
one,  or  to  be  more  exact,  the  religion  and  state,  no 
matter  whether  in  heathendom  or  Christendom, 


THE  GREAT  ORDER  373 

tyranny  and  torture  prevail.  Money,  the  base  of  all 
evil,  is  the  gilded  foundation  on  which  a  religious 
autocracy  is  built,  and  no  man,  or  set  of  men,  with 
their  senses  about  them,  under  such  conditions, 
dare  to  openly  defy  an  invincible  power.  If  one  be 
such  a  sublime  fool,  he  gets  the  reward  of  a  Bruno, 
as  sure  as  the  sun  sets.  Within  the  last  few  years 
the  method  of  torture  has  been  altered,  becoming 
more  subtle  and  refined,  yet  the  sting  is  there, 
nevertheless,  in  the  fang  of  the  snake,  and  the 
venom  as  deadly  to-day  as  in  ages  past.  Hence, 
the  Olympians,  who  banded  secretly  at  the  dawn  of 
history,  and  undying,  defy  time,  priestly  rule  and 
political  autocracy." 

"  Is  it  a  large  order  ?  "  asked  Regan. 

"Compared  with  the  Masons,  no,  though  there 
are  many  of  that  organization  among  them." 

"  Is  it  a  religious  body  ? ' ' 

"That  depends  on  what  you  understand  by  the 
word.  If  religion  means  the  finality  of  truth, 
devotion  to  the  changeless  .laws  of  being,  and  the 
principle  of  them,  yes,  it  is  a  religious  organization. 
If,  however,  you  define  religion,  as  a  devotional 
allegiance  to  an  anthropomorphic  God,  and  a  sibyl 
line  book,  no,  it  is  not  religious.  Like  St.  Paul, 
they  preach  the  unknown  God,  whose  name  is 
never  spoken  ;  and,  as  for  a  bible,  the  book  of 
nature  is  amply  sufficient,  both  as  inspirer  and  re- 
vealer.  They  are  always  getting  new  insight  as 
they  turn  the  leaves,  such  strange  revelations  that 


374  EL  RESHID 

pre-conceived  conventional  opinions  become  of  but 
small  value,  and  all  things  formerly  believed  are 
found  to  be  flashes  of  a  truth  but  half  revealed. 
It  is  emphatically  an  experimental  religion  and  in 
that,  is  closely  allied  to  science  which  some  of  our 
members  claim  is  but  another  name  for  the  same 
thing." 

"  Has  the  Order  a  chief  or  head  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly;  now  listen  closely:  Years  and 
years  ago,  you  would  doubt  me  if  I  told  you  how 
many,  the  oider  of  the  Olympians  had  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  masters  that  ever  sat  in  the  imperial 
chair.  Though  I  myself  was  unborn  at  the  time,  I 
have  heard  the  members  tell  of  Henrique  Romanes, 
who  like  Pericles  of  ancient  Hellas  was  called  the 
Olympian  Zeus.  He  had  gone  so  far  in  his  study 
of  chemistry  and  medicine,  had  penetrated  so 
keenly  into  the  secrets  of  nature,  knew  so  much  of 
the  transmutation  of  energy  and  the  conservation 
of  force,  that  he  maintained  his  prime  as  easily  as 
others  grow  old,  and  earned  his  right  to  Olympus 
by  the  conquest  over  sleep  and  death.  He  had 
entered  the  innermost  shrine  of  the  order  and  knew 
the  secret  of  secrets;  not  only  practically  com  pi  e- 
hending  the  nirvanic  poise,  which  means  an  inten 
sity  of  life  that  words  fail  to  paint,  but  also  grasped 
the  paradox  of  opposition  which  made  him  a  man 
of  affairs,  a  general,  a  commander." 
"  This  is  all  Greek  to  me,"  said  Sallus. 
"  I  presume  it  is,  my  boy,  however,  the  light  may 


THE  GREAT   ORDER  375 

break  on  you  some  day.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  he 
was  the  greatest  master  that  Olympian  tradition 
boasts,  and  had  more  influence  in  the  order  than 
any  who  had  preceded  him. 

It  would  seem  that  lie  deliberately  went  out; 
whether  he  was  tired  of  his  supremacy,  or  over 
come  by  love,  was  never  quite  determined.  However 
this  aside;  the  young  man  Aleppo  is  of  his  own 
flesh,  and  some  day,  as  surely  as  the  sun  rises,  will 
take  the  old  man's  place." 
"Old  man  !" 

"Yes,  old  man,  Henrique  Romanes  is  very,  very 
old." 

"  How  many  years  ?  " 
The  age  of  an  Olympian  is  never  told. 
"  How  is  it  that  Aleppo's  father  is  so  fast  break 
ing  up?  "  said  Sallus. 

"  That  is  as  great  a  secret  as  is  the  famed  elixir; 
to  give  away  one  would  be  to  explain  the  other." 
"  Are  the  members  all  celibate  ?  " 
"  Oh,  no  ;  only  those  of  the  inner  shrine  ;  and 
here  let  me  say  that  these  words,  shrine,  degree, 
etc.,  are  fictitious,  simply  designating  lines  or  as 
pects  of  life  and  action.  In  reality,  if  a  man  wants 
some  particular  thing  or  power,  he  gives  up  an 
other  to  get  it  ;  in  cheap  language,  pays  for  it. 
Force  is  constant,  psychically  as  well  as  physically, 
mathematics  and  logic  are  at  the  base  of  Olympus; 
rather  than  gold;  the  medium  of  exchange  is  any 
thing  but  jingling  coin." 


376  EL  RESHID 

"Is  it  not  a  pretty  cold  place?"  said  Regan 
doubtfully.  "Olympus  has  ice  on  the  summit." 

"True,  but  fire  at  its  heart;  it  is  no  extinct  vol 
cano,  let  me  assure  you;  as  a  thinking  body  it  is  at 
the  freezing  point;  as  an  emotional,  it  has  the  pas 
sion  of  a  Christ." 

' '  Do  you  do  any  practical  work  ?  ' ' 

"  Without  boasting,  certainly,  and  always  incog 
nito.  Among  fallen  women  we  are  most  energetic, 
and  have  pronounced  success.  Let  me  assure  you, 
though,  that  we  never  appear  among  them  as 
preachers  or  philanthropists.  In  our  study  of 
nature  we  remember  the  inner  aspect  and  pull 
people  out  of  the  ditches,  rags  and  all;  should  we 
stop  to  change  their  garments  most  likely  they 
would  drown.  We  make  no  show  of  working  nor 
of  goodness;  an  Olympian  who  boasts  or  uses 
platitudes  is  thrust  from  the  order.  We  find  osten 
tation  intolerable,  and  a  show  of  sympathy  fails  to 
pass  in  our  cult  for  the  real  thing." 

"  Have  you  no  hypocrites  among  you  ?  " 

"Not  at  present,  that  we  are  aware  of.  Many 
years  ago  we  entertained  a  traitor,  so  says 
tradition." 

"How  was  that?" 

"And  Satan  came  among  them." 

"  Ah  !  Satan  !  " 

"Yes,  Issachar.  He  was  then  a  young  man  and 
succeeded  in  deluding  the  Olympians,  all  save 


THE  GREAT   ORDER  377 

Romanes,  until  he  wormed  from   them  the  secrets 
which  he  utilizes  to  this  very  day." 

"  Was  that  long  since  ?  " 

"Yes,"  laughed  Catus. 

"  What  are  you  so  amused  about  ?  ' ' 

"Time  cuts  no  figure  with  us." 

"  It's  the  most  all-fired  curious  combination  I 
ever  heard  of,"  said  Regan;  "you  talk  about 
nature  one  minute  and  fly  into  her  face  the  next; 
how  the  deuce  can  you  abide  by  the  laws  of  nature 
and  not  grow  old  ?  " 

Catus  lighted  another  Havana,  at  the  same  time 
laughing  silently,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  Regan. 

Now.  there's  no  use  in  your  looking  so  wise  ; 
facts  tell  on  me  every  time,  or,  for  that  matter) 
reason;  but  smiles  don't  go  down  with  this  Yankee, 
nor  any  of  your  confounded  mysteries,  that  are 
ashamed  of  the  light  of  day." 

"  There  is  now  and  then  a  flower  that  opens  in 
the  night,  you  know,"  said  Catus  sobering. 

"All  right,  I'll  agree  to  that." 

"  What  is  more,"  went  on  Catus,  "  while  nature 
is  true  to  her  rhythmic  law  she  has  another  if  I'm 
not  mistaken,  which  the  Masters  have  not  told  of 
and  the  rest  of  humanity  have  not,  it  refers  to  the 
supremacy  of  will,  nirvanic  poise,  or  the  moving 
equilibrium  of  science,  but  that  is  all  out  of  the  way 
of  my  narrative.  Mark  you  one  thing  more,  there's 
nothing  supernatural  in  the  universe;  but  there  are 
laws  and  laws,  and  a  L,aw  of  them.  To  discover  a 


378  EL  RESHID 

principle  is  to  enhance  one's  power;  now  let  us 
drop  this  and  go  on." 

"  Say,  Catus,  what  has  a  fellow  got  to  do  to  get 
in  with  the  Olympians?  "  asked  Regan. 

"A  few  more  such  noble  deeds  as  you  have  just 
done.  Really,  I  look  up  to  you  and  Sallus,  already; 
you  ought  to  be  in  my  place. 

'*  Fiddlesticks  !  that  was  for  love,  and  it  doesn't 
count.  Love  is  the  most  selfish  thing  in  the 
universe. ' ' 

"  True,  and  the  sublimest;  henceforth,  who  shall 
dare  call  selfishness  an  evil  !  ' ' 

'  Who  is  the  chief  of  the  order  to-day?"  said 
Sallus. 

It  was  rather  strange,  but  Catus  removed  his  cigar 
and  stood  up,  then  answered  in  a  subdued  and 
affectionate  voice,  "  El  Reshid." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
IN  OLD  CAIRO  AGAIN. 

L,eft  in  Cairo,  Rhea  sought  Spino  and  Cicily,  and 
with  her  keen  womanly  intuition  comprehended 
and  solved  them  as  no  man  had  been  able  to  do. 
To  "the  beautiful  Yankee,"  as  she  called  her, 
Cicily  poured  out  her  story,  begging  help  to  escape 
from  Issachar,  of  whom  she  was  becoming  more 
and  more  afraid. 

As  the  Jew  was  absent,  Rhea  went  every  day  to 


IN  OLD  CAIRO  AGAIN  379 

visit  her  new  friends  and  spent  long  hours  both 
listening  to  their  story  and  planning  for  their 
escape. 

' '  Has  the  answer  to  my  letter  arrived  ? ' '  she 
asked  of  Spino  one  afternoon,  as  she  entered  the 
Jew's  quarters. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  "  and  Cicely  came  from  behind  the 
arras,  and  throwing  her  arms  about  Rhea  kissed  her 
again  and  again.  The  letter  which  the  young  girl 
produced  was  from  southern  France,  and  addressed 
to  Rhea  Nellino,  being  an  answer  to  one  from  that 
young  lady  sent  to  Cicily  's  relatives  making  inquiries 
in  regard  to  her  family  and  their  intentions.  The 
reply  was  brief  but  explicit,  stating  that  Cicily  was 
undoubtedly  a  daughter  of  their  family,  and  also 
a  member  of  a  secret  order  to  which  her  father 
belonged;  that  while  she  was  ostensibly  stolen  for 
money,  in  reality  the  act  was  a  stab  at  the  organiza 
tion,  and  that,  though  her  near  relatives  were  dead, 
those  living  were  willing  to  take  the  young  girl, 
provided  she  made  her  escape.  While  the  letter 
authenticated  to  a  great  extent  Spino's  story,  the 
writer  was  no  enthusiast,  and  being  several  degrees 
removed  in  blood  from  the  victim  of  Issachar, 
seemed  actuated  more  from  a  sense  of  duty  than  a 
desire  to  help  in  her  rescue. 

The  communication,  however,  was  sufficient  for 
the  purpose  of  Rhea.  The  characters  of  Spino  and 
Cicily  being  cleared  to  her  satisfaction  she  re 
solved,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Hancock  or  Issachar,  to  dis- 


380  EL  RESHID 

patch  the  two  women  to  France  immediately  ;  at 
the  same  time  writing  a  note  to  Regan  and  Sallus, 
requesting  them  to  see  that  they  were  properly 
cared  for,  as  soon  as  they  could  get  off  duty  at 
Stamboul . 

i(  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  of  the  Jew's 
return  just  about  now?"  asked  Rhea,  folding  the 
letter  and  looking  anxiously  at  Spino. 

' '  Issachar  !  he  bobs  up  anywhere,  at  any  time  ; 
yes,  there  is  danger;  nevertheless,  we  must  try  in 
the  face  of  it,  and  keep  on  trying,  no  matter  if  we 
are  captured  and  re- captured." 

"  How  soon  can  you  start  ? ' ' 

"Any  minute,"  answered  Spino. 

"I  will  pay  your  fares  to  France,"  said  Rhea. 
"  Get  your  things  together  directly;  the  longer  you 
wait  the  less  chance  you  have;  let  me  help  you." 

The  three  bustled  about  and  packed  the  few  nec 
essaries  required  on  the  trip.  Rhea,  finding 
Cicity's  wardrobe  in  a  barbaric  condition,  supplied 
her  with  a  good  many  sober  garments,  which  so 
transformed  the  girl  that,  instead  of  a  dowdy  ori 
ental  princess,  she  appeared  a  natty  French 
woman,  quite  chic  and  delightful.  However  you 
might  fix  Cicily,  she  was  distractingly  pretty;  in 
splendid  decay  or  prim  prosperity,  washed  or  un 
washed,  the  girl  was  a  flesh  and  blood  beauty  that 
forced  people  to  turn  their  heads.  Rhea  had  given 
her  a  quiet,  gray  dress  of  her  own  and  a  sober 
traveling  hat  that  simply  enhanced  the  rebellious 


IN  OLD   CAIRO  AGAIN  381 

tangle  of  her  lovely  hair  and  the  bright  glow  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  Here,  let  me  tie  you  up  in  a  veil;  you  will  be 
followed  from  the  first — you  are  altogether  too 
lovely,"  said  Rhea  anxiously.  "  If  I  were  a  man 
I  would  certainly  run  off  with  you." 

But  the  veil  only  made  matters  worse.  Cicily's 
soft,  dangerous  eyes  flashed  through  its  meshes 
more  seducingly  than  ever,  so  Rhea  found  a  heavy, 
green  baize  and  smothered  the  poor  child's  fasci 
nations  in  its  cruel  folds. 

"  There,  you  little  Venus,  don't  you  dare,  on  the 
penalty  of  getting  caught,  to  lift  that  mask  an  inch 
— an  inch." 

' '  But  I'm  positively  wretched ;  I  cannot 
breathe." 

"  Be  wretched  then,"  said  Rhea,  laughing;  "it 
isn't  my  fault  that  you're  so  pretty;  if  you  will 
persist  in  throwing  us  all  in  the  shade,  we'll  have 
to  treat  you  in  the  same  way." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  put  a  veil  on  me?"  said 
Spino  in  a  grieved  tone. 

"  Yes,  granny,  I  am,  of  course  I  am." 

People  turn  around  and  look  after  me,"  went  on 
the  old  lady  ;  "  tbe  men  stare  as  long  as  they  can 
see,  and  it  isn't  Cicily  that  does  it,  for  it's  worse 
when  I  go  out  alone.  I  don't  believe  that  there  is 
any  woman  in  Cairo  that  attracts  as  much  attention 
as  I  do." 


382  KL,  RKSHID 

"  That's  because  you're  so  distinguished,  granny; 
stand  still  now  and  I'll  tie  you  up." 

But  Spino  never  stood  still  in  her  life,  and  she 
couldn't  now,  nor  did  the  veil  disguise  her  in  any 
sense.  Her  face  was  but  a  part  of  her;  her  queer 
shape  and  awkward  motions  betrayed  Spino  wher 
ever  she  went,  and  in  spite  of  Rhea's  precautions, 
she  looked  herself  from  head  to  toe. 

Whether  the  old  fellow  who  kept  the  shop  below- 
stairs  had  an  inkling  of  the  mischief  brewing  above 
was  unknown  to  them  ;  at  any  rate  he  appeared 
very  innocent,  and  went  his  usual  way  without 
interfering  in  the  least.  Mrs.  Hancock,  too,  let 
Rhea  severely  alone,  contenting  herself  with  the 
remark  that,  "  The  time  would  come  when  the 
account  would  be  settled,  and  her  niece  would 
answer  at  the  judgment  seat  for  her  hermetic  inti 
macy  with  the  Egytians,  who  were  nothing  more 
than  heathen  and  devils."  Mrs.  Hancock  folded 
her  robes  of  sanctity  around  her  and  sat  aloof,  dis 
daining  to  soil  the  tips  of  her  sacred  fingers  with 
the  touch  of  such  "  vile  trash." 

No  Hindoo  of  the  highest  caste  could  treat  a 
cursed  pariah  with  more  contempt  than  she  showed 
to  these  poor  prisoners  of  Issachar,  whom  she  hap 
pened  to  meet,  with  her  niece,  on  the  streets  of 
Cairo.  Rhea  was  ashamed  of  her,  bitterly,  and  a 
great  coldness  came  between  them,  which  threat 
ened  to  end  in  separation. 

To  escape  from  Issachar  as  easily  as  they  did, 


IN  OLD  CAIRO  AGAIN  383 

seemed  absurd  in  the  face  of  the  difficulties  that  had 
apparently  been  in  their  way.  Either  the  Jew  was 
glad  to  get  rid  of  them,  or  was  so  engaged  else 
where,  that  he  had  forgotten  their  existence  ;  how 
ever  this  might  be,  they  went  quietly  to  the 
station  with  Rhea,  and  kissing  their  friend  again 
and  again,  took  the  train  out  of  Cairo,  unmolested. 
Rhea  went  as  boldly  back  to  her  aunt,  who  asked 
in  an  icy  tone — 

"Are  we  to  stay  forever,  in  Cairo  ?  " 

"A  few  weeks  longer,  Aunt  Carrie,  then  we'll 
take  up  the  thread  of  our  tour  where  we  left  it,  and 
spin  it  out  to  the  end." 

Her  aunt  sniffed  the  air  suspiciously,  but  made 
no  answer. 

Though  Regan  and  Sallus  had  both  written 
many  times  to  Rhea,  they  had  said  nothing  of  the 
finding  of  Aleppo,  as  they  dreaded  to  torture  her 
with  more  intense  anxiety  than  she  had  already 
felt.  Still  she  waited  at  Cairo,  putting  off  her  de 
parture  from  week  to  week,  for  a  time  making 
Spino  and  Cicily  her  excuse,  and  afterward  saying 
to  herself,  "A  little  while  longer,  and  something 
will  be  discovered,  then  I  will  go. " 

"  Spino  sent  Rhea  a  message  from  every  available 
point  on  her  trip,  and  at  last,  news  came  from 
France,  that  they  had  arrived  safely,  and  were  met 
by  Cicily's  relatives,  who  had  found  the  girl  charm 
ing,  especially  a  young  cousin  who  desired  to  marry 
her  without  delay.  This  troubled  Rhea  consider- 


384  EL  RESHID 

ably,  as  she  knew  Sallus'  secret,  and  was  anxious 
for  the  happiness  of  her  boy  friend;  so  she  wrote 
him  immediately;  telling  him  of  the  situation,  and 
urging  him  to  communicate  with  Cicily  at  once. 
Sallus  answered: 
Dear  Miss  Nellino: — 

' '  The  young  lady  knows  very  well  that  I  love 
her,  and  that  I  will  keep  my  promise  as  soon  as 
Aleppo  is  found.  If  she  is  true,  as  I  believe  she  is, 
no  temptation  in  the  shape  of  a  French  cousin  can 
induce  her  to  betray  my  trust.  Time  will  prove 
Cicily." 

While  this  all  sounded  very  well,  in  reality  Sallus 
was  suffering  from  jealousy  and  love  combined — a 
miserable  gray  mixture  of  white  and  black,  light 
and  darkness.  Yet,  setting  aside  his  personal  joys 
and  sorrows,  ever  nearest  his  loyal  heart  was 
Aleppo,  whom  he  had  vowed  to  champion  till 
freedom  came,  if  it  took  forever. 

In  Sallus's  heart  were  two  opposing  emotions — 
hatred  for  Issachar  and  love  for  Romanes;  they 
were  his  hell  and  heaven.  He  cared  little  for 
psychology,  philosophy,  or  religion,  save  as  they 
were  personified  and  demonstrated.  Aleppo  was 
the  soul  of  Stilus,  and  stood  for  the  psychic,  the 
poet,  the  dreamer;  through  him  he  saw  visions,  and 
felt  the  thrill  of  rhythm- and  song;  through  his  far- 
seeing  glance,  he  watched  the  stars  and  the  clouds 
that  veiled  them;  without  Allepo,  Sallus  felt  himself 
to  be  an  animal  and  nothing  more.  Rhea,  who 


IN  OLD  CAIRO  AGAIN  385 

seemed  but  another  aspect  of  his  friend,  was  his 
goddess,  his  religion;  through  her  he  worshipped 
and  gave  sacrifice.  Even  loyalty  in  its  finality  is 
selfish.  We  are  true  to  that  which  we  need,  to  that 
which  wakes  us  out  of  sleep.  Issachar  also  stirred 
the  depths  of  Sallus.  To  hate  supremely,  is  to 
thrill  with  a  sombre  ecstasy  that  brings  potential 
being  into  active  life.  Any  emotion  that  shocks  a 
man  to  his  feet  and  stirs  his  sluggish  blood, 
whether  it  be  hate  or  love,  any  excitation  that  lifts 
him  out  of  body  into  mind,  and  stirs  his  inert  self 
into  action,  is  a  breeder  of  life  and  a  revealer  of 
being  to  itself.  Sallus  then  was  as  loyal  to  his 
personalized  religion — Rhea— and  his  personified 
soul — Aleppo — as  another  might  be  to  his  church 
and  his  priest.  He  hated  Issachar  as  most  men 
hate  the  devil  and  was  working  out  his  own  salva 
tion  in  a  unique  way. 

Life  is  a  problem,  especially  to  him  who  attempts 
to  solve  another's  existence  and  not  his  own.  No 
two  are  ground  on  the  same  wheel,  no  two  are  up 
lifted  in  the  same  direction,  or  by  the  same  means. 
Back  of  each  is  a  different  causation,  a  spring  whose 
source  is  especially  its  own;  in  its  flow  through  the 
aeons,  it  has  gathered  its  respective  debris  and  on 
its  banks  are  its  own  peculiar  flowers,  yet,  we 
teachers  and  preachers  presume  to  judge  of  the 
sequence  as  though  we  knew  the  causation;  of  the 
blood,  without  the  pedigree.  We  dictate  but  one 
method  of  progress,  point  out  but  one  way  of 


386  El,  RESHID 

advancement,  ordering  an  ameba  to  bring  forth  a 
giant  and  a  mollusk  a  man.  Evolution  is  a  slow 
process  and  depends  entirely  upon  its  eternal  mate 
— involution,  from  which  it  can  never  be  divorced. 

The  marvelous  variety  spread  before  our  eyes 
to  day — the  jungle  of  specialization,  rich,  teeming, 
voluptuous,  seen,  unseen,  within  reach,  beyond, 
above,  below,  beautiful,  ugly,  harmless,  venomous; 
this  fetid,  perfumed,  gorgeous,  deadly  jungle, 
preaches  heterogeneity  with  a  silent  daring  that 
holds  us  spell-bound;  each  individual  facing  the 
combined  opposition  of  the  mass,  as  subtly  con 
scious  of  its  immortality,  as  though  logic  were 
expounding  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  and  we  preachers 
penetrate  this  jungle  of  spiders  and  lilies,  and  toss 
the  lamb  to  the  jaws  of  the  lion,  and  the  bird  at 
the  fangs  of  the  snake,  saying,  in  unctuous  ver 
bosity,  "Live  ye  in  harmony;  be  one;  seek  the 
same  gleaming  heaven,  and  flee  from  the  identical 
sulphurous  hell;  as  though  the  lotus  loved  the  sun 
light,  or  the  sun-flower  adored  the  moon. 

Should  there  come  a  Master  among  you,  who 
could,  like  Shakespeare,  read  each  man  as  though 
on  earth  there  were  no  other;  who  could  prescribe 
for  the  individual  a  formula  that  would  fit  his  spec 
ial  condition;  who  would  look  over  the  far-off  past 
of  a  man,  as  well  as  ahead;  who  would  judge  the 
changing  phases  of  his  existence,  as  though  but  the 
other  pole  of  his  unit  of  energy;  should  a  great 
specialist  appear,  who  at  the  same  time  could  realize 


FAREWELL,  MY   DREAM  38? 

unity  as  the  changeless  base  from  which  phenomena 
spring,  and  should  he  present  you  with  the  paradox 
of  an  altruistic  individualism,  you  would  nail  him 
to  the  cross  and  pierce  his  hands  and  feet  and 
side;  even  more,  you  would  place  the  crown  of 
thorns  upon  his  head,  and  soak  a  sponge  in  hyssop 
and  vinegar  to  moisten  his  lips.  Ah,  yes,  for  men 
are  sheep  who  run  in  herds,  so  like  each  other  that 
they  have  no  names,  and  the  priest  devours  them 
in  their  ignorance,  lest  they  be  startled  into  life  by 
a  clarion  voice  and  a  new  gospel. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 
FAREWELL,    MY  DREAM. 

It  was  Rhea's  last  night  in  Cairo.  The  next  day 
they  were  to  continue  their  journey  as  previously 
planned.  Why  she  had  remained  so  long  in 
Egypt  she  hardly  knew.  Her  friends  in  Stam- 
boul  had  sent  no  encouraging  news  in  regard  to 
Aleppo  and  the  prospect  of  ever  seeing  him  again 
was  exceedingly  dim. 

Though  she  had  felt  the  spell  of  El  Reshid,  and 
for  a  time  had  been  roused  by  hope,  later  she 
became  depressed  and  practically  a  skeptic  regard 
ing  the  whole  affair.  Also,  about  herself,  her  dream, 
her  belief  in  love  eternal,  constancy,  and  those  ideal 
possibilities  which  she  had  so  ardently  sought,  she 
was  now  doubtful.  Of  one  thing  only  was  she  sure, 


338  EL  RESHID 

and  that  was  the  love  of  Aleppo;  but  whether  it 
would  longer  be  entertained  by  him  in  face  of  new 
and  more  lofty  aspirations,  she  was  also  doubtful. 
A  smouldering  fire  was  scarcely  warm  enough  for 
an  exotic  nature  like  hers;  she  was  a  Psyche,  and 
a  Cupid  who  went  elsewhere,  even  to  heaven,  was 
a  sorrow  rather  than  a  joy. 

She  took  herself  to  task  coldly,  severely,  treat 
ing  her  suffering  heart  as  though  it  belonged  to  an 
enemy  whom  she  desired  to  torture.  Her  New 
England  conscience  showed  no  pity,  but  in  its  pur 
itanic  cruelty  troubled  her  night  and  day.  "  What, 
after  all,"  she  thought,  "are  my  silly  fancies  and 
dreams ;  was  there  ever  a  romantic  girl  without 
them  ?  Venus  makes  dupes  of  us  all ;  she  whis 
pers  'love  eternal,'  and  seduces  our  sweethearts 
with  her  voluptuous  eyes.  She  breathes  '  con 
stancy, '  and  shuffles  the  queen  of  hearts  with  a 
reckless  hand ;  she  preaches  Uranian  felicity  while 
intoxicating  us  poor  mortals  with  the  wine  of  hell. 
"  Ah,  I  have  dreamed  of  friendship,  of  happy  con 
tact,  of  divine  delights,  in  the  glow  of  which,  time 
and  space  are  a  chimera,  and  death  a  lie.  I  have 
lived  in  the  vestal  whiteness  of  the  soul's  heat,  I 
have  felt  the  glamour  of  Adonis  and  the  cold  power 
of  Diana  ;  I  have  built  me  a  castle  in  the  blue, 
from  the  very  fleece  of  the  clouds,  which  even  a 
zephyr  has]  blown  over;  I  have  revelled  in  a  dim 
past,  where  the  soul  of  the  ancient  congealed  into 
marble,  and  told  its  story  in  the  Hellenic  shaft; 


FAREWELL,   MY  DREAM  389 

I  have  wandered  backward,  to  the  very  verge  of 
being,  and  onward  to  the  gate  of  Paradise.  Alas  ! 
farewell,  my  dream. 

"Even  the  Nile,  with  its  tawny  beauty,  the 
moon,  the  sky,  the  very  stars,  are  transfigured  by 
my  eyes;  I  throw  a  spell  upon  Venus,  and  en 
chantment  over  Mars;  I  behold  all  things  through 
the  fine  mesh  of  illusion,  which  transforms  a  pebble 
into  a  diamond  and  a  weed  into  the  tree  of  life. 
My  soul  is  a  rhapsody,  without  measure  or  tune. 
Henceforth,  remember — the  Nile  is  but  a  mud- 
stained  stream,  Egypt  a  corpse,  Hellas  a  vision 
born  of  false  ideas,  Karnak  a  ruin  of  the  past,  re 
ligion  a  superstition,  love  an  impulse  of  the  blood, 
and  Aleppo— Aleppo!  my  other  self!  Then 
wherefore  seeks  he  the  Olympians,  and  the  inner 
shrine  of  the  sage  ?  The  great  temple  of  Ammon 
has  seduced  him,  for  amid  its  very  ruins  he  don 
ned  the  garb  of  a  priest  ;  and  the  stars  that  gleam 
coldly  on  the  cursed  pile  of  the  ancients  have  put 
out  my  eyes — mine.  To  love  you  now  is  to  wor 
ship  the  ice  peaks  of  a  mountain,  or  the  cold 
splendor  of  the  moon;  you  are  a  Christ  uplifted, 
whose  feet  I  may  not  kiss;  and  yet  are  you  con 
stant — as  is  the  generous  sun  that  shines  over  all. 
You  love  me  as  God  loves,  and  I — I  spurn  it  all ;  I 
renounce  you.  Instead  of  me,  embrace  the 
world;  it  fills  your  arms  even  now,  your  heart.  I 
am  not  wise.  Did  the  marble  Phryne  warm  the 
fingers  of  Praxiteles?  Was  the  chisel  hot  that  cut 


390  EL  RESHID 

the  block  to  semblance  of  sweet  life?  O,  to  know 
the  subtlety,  the  flutter  of  love's  heart — the  thrill, 
the  passion  that  sets  the  universe  a  quivering,  to 
feel  the  rapture  of  the  soul's  abandon.  Alas ! 
farewell,  my  dream  ? 

' '  And  yet  shall  I  love  you — through  the  years  of 
my  life — the  eternities.  Despised  and  rejected 
— a  prince  and  a  master— you.  Somewhere  in  the 
depths  of  self  may  you  feel  me,  as  one  discovers 
the  beating  of  his  heart;  somewhere  in  the  spaces 
may  you  hear  me,  as  one  catches  the  echo  of  a 
song;  somewhere  in  the  light  within  may  you  see 
me,  as  one  beholds  the  heavenly  face;  somewhere 
in  the  universe  may  you  know  me,  as  self  discov 
ers  self. 

'  Far  back  I  behold  the  oracle  of  Delphi  and  the 
pale  priestess  of  a  frenzied  prophesy;  far  ahead, 
the  seeress  of  a  resurrected  Hellas  and  the  sibyl  of 
an  unborn  age.  Till  then — farewell,  my  dream. " 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 
THE  UNIT  OF  FORCE. 

"  Dos  moi  pou  sto  kai  tan  gan  kinaso  " — Give 
me  where  I  may  stand  and  I  will  move  the  earth. 

Romanes  and  Issachar  were  face  to  face;  the  Jew 
had  crept  upon  him  with  the  slyness  of  a  cat  and 
their  eyes  met. 

"  Think  not  that  I  came   to  barter  again,"  said 


THE  UNIT   OF  FORCE  391 

Issachar,  "Aleppo  Romanes  has  had  his  chance, 
henceforth  he  is  mine. "  He  smiled. 

"  You  may  barter  till  the  day  of  doom,  but  not 
with  me,"  said  Romanes;  "my  son  shall  not  be 
bought;  I  knew  this  well  when  last  I  scorned  you, 
vile  snake,  who  crept  into  the  order  of  Olympus  on 
your  belly,  and  behind  me  but  a  moment  since,  as 
if  to  stab  me  in  the  back.  Money  !  you  laugh, — 
money  !  by  the  powers  you  seek  revenge.  I  might 
fling  you  gold  till  I  were  beggared,  and  you  would 
chuckle  and  spit  upon  me  using  my  flesh  and  blood 
as  but  a  means  to  pull  me  down — me.  Think  you 
I  failed  to  understand  when  last  you  came;  think 
you  that  I  remember  not  your  threat  in  Syria  years 
since  ? — have  you  forgot  ?  " 

"Nay,  but  thou  hast  had  thy  day;  my  turn  has 
come." 

"So  you  would  dare  the  Olympians;  quite  well 
aware  are  you  that  should  you  draw^  the  knife  upon 
Aleppo  your  own  life's  blood  yon  must  needs  for 
feit;  by  .the  powers  you  thought  to  catch  me  napp 
ing  and  prick  my  vein?.  Even  yet,  you  have  done 
the  youth  no  harm,  nor  can  you;  your  steel  has 
lost  its  temper,  your  blade  its  edge;  your  cursed 
magic  rebounds  upon  llself.  All  this  I  knew  full 
well  when  last  we  met." 

"  Thy  tongue  can  twist  itself  to  boasting,  but 
acts  speak  louder  than  cheap  words" — the  Jew's  eyes 
glowed  like  burning  coals;  "  thon  art  helpless;  thy 
son  forever  is  far  beyond  thy  reach;  thy  power 


392  EL  RESHID 

which  flashes,  as  does  a  dying  fire  whose  fuel  has 
been  spent,  is  not  sufficiently  sustained  to  force  me 
as  thou  once  did  do,  when  thou  wert  Master  of 
Olympus;  ha  !  and  I,  invincible,  have  thee  upon 
th)'  knees  spouting  thy  boastful  prayers  into  my 
ears — the  prince  of  ancient  time,  a  cheap  buffoon 
among  the  moderns,  making  slim  use  of  bluff  and 
and  verbiage,  where  once  he  opened  not  his  lips, 
and  did  but  glance  to  make  me  tremble;  ha!  ha  ! 
Romanes,  my  revenge  is  sweet." 

"Words,"  sneered  Romanes,  haughtier,  taller, 
"  are  sometimes  deadly  shot,  whose  prick  you  may 
feel  later,  but  mark  you  this  :  It  is  strange  in  all  your 
boasted  prowess  that  as  yet  you  have  failed  to  dis 
cover  that  El  Reshid  is  but  using  the  paws  of  the 
cat  to  pull  the  jewel  from  the  fire.  It  amazes  me 
that  one,  so  wise  as  you  suppose  yourself  to  be,  has 
not  yet  ascertained  that  you  are  doing  a  service  to 
Aleppo  beyond  price.  You — the  devil — have  helped 
a  master  to  evolve;  you  have  broken  the  husk  of 
the  chrysalis  and  let  loose  the  butterfly;  you  have 
ground  the  uncut  gem  upon  a  wheel.  In  truth, 
El  Reshid  owes  you  thanks;  unconsciously  have 
you  done  service  to  the  order  and  to  me." 

"  Ha  !  ha  ! — ha  !  ha  !  If  I  have  failed  to  make 
thee  suffer,  prepare  for  torture  now;  Know  then, 
that  the  young  Master,  the  new  star  of  Olympus, 
flashed  but  a  day  on  Hellas,  and  sank  to  rise  again 
over  the  strong-hold  of  Issachar  on  the  banks  of 
the  Golden  Horn.  Thy  son  has  deserted  the  house 


14 


THE  UNIT  OF  FORCE  393 

of  Romanes,  and  swears  allegiance  to  an  outcast 
and  a  Jew.  He  loves  thee  not,  but  me,  reverest, 
who  stamped  him  with  the  devil's  mark." 

"  'Tis  false!     You  He!" 

"  Ha!  ha! — the  proof,  words  are  but  dirt." 

The  afternoon  sun  had  sunk,  and  the  room  of 
Romanes  was  in  shadow.  He  struck  a  light,  it 
threw  a  dim  glow  over  the  apartment  and  brought 
out  the  Jew  like  a  Rembrandt.  Romanes  went  a 
step  nearer,  so  close  that  he  touched  the  immacu 
late  robe  of  Issachar,  and  said  under  his  breath 
with  deadly  emphasis,  "  Know  thou  that  I  come  to 
vStamboul  to  demand  my  son  ;  that  when  the  time 
was  ripe,  I  left  Genoa?  I  give  you  warning  that 
the  Powers  are  at  my  back.  Would  you  escape 
them,  bring  forth  Aleppo." 

"  Ha!  ha!  And  what  if  he  desires  thee  not  ;  no 
power  can  force  him  against  his  will.  Should  the 
order  insist,  he  will  laugh  in  its  face.  Should  El 
Reshid  command,  he  will  turn  his  back.  He  is 
vile,  debauched,  lost.  And  thou  wouldst  lift  him 
high  over  Olympus?  Ha!  ha! — revenge  is  sweet." 

A  deadly  sickness  struck  at  the  heart  of  Romanes. 
Had  Aleppo  failed  as  he  had  ;  had  the  tests  been 
beyond  him?  Was  Issachar,  after  all  the  Master, 
and  Satan,  the  supreme  ? 

For  an  instant  the  Jew  tasted  the  .sweetness  of 
revenge  ;  he  saw  the  pallor  creep  to  the  brow  of 
Romanes,  the  trembling  of  his  hands,  the  startled 
expression  in  his  eyes.  He  had  known  every 


394  EIv  RKSHID 

emotion  before,  save  this  ;  he  had  revelled  in  every 
unlawful  sensation  and  experienced  every  sin,  but 
revenge,  in  its  exquisite  finality,  its  intensest  pos 
sibility,  he  had  waited  long  to  feel.  The  bliss  of 
the  devil  was  forcing  his  heart  to  quick  action,  the 
exultation  of  the  inferno  was  upon  him — the  insane 
rapture.  To  acquire  this,  was  to  have  lived  su 
premely.  To  realize  the  terror  at  the  paternal 
heart  of  the  enemy,  and  to  know  that  he,  himself, 
was  the  cause  ;  to  humble  to  the  very  dust  his 
former  Master,  to  behold  him  trembling  with  fear 
and  sorrow — ah,  ecstasy! 

The  door  opened  so  silently  that  neither  of  them 
heard,  and  a  young  man,  vivid,  powerful,  crossed 
the  threshold.  For  a  long  minute  he  stood  in  the 
shadow  watching  the  two  mortal  enemies.  On  the 
face  of  one  was  the  look  of  supreme  triumph,  on 
that  of  the  other,  despair.  He  stepped  between 
them. 

Imagine  the  sky  when  the  sun  bursts  through  the 
clouds,  and  you  get  some  idea  of  the  change  in  the 
face  of  Romanes  when  his  eyes  caught  those  of  El 
Reshid,  yet,  in  spite  of  the  most  powerful  emotion 
that  the  human  heart  can  feel,  the  habit  of  the 
order  controlled  him,  and  he  bowed  himself  nearly 
to  the  floor. 

Jssachar,  who  grew  tall  or  short  according  to  the 
state  of  his  sensations,  shrank  till  he  seemed  to  be 
bowing  also,  and  his  eyes,  as  they  scanned  the  calm 
figure  before  him,  flashed  with  deadly  fear. 


OF;;FORCE  395 

' '  Thy  haughty  demeanor  became  thee  far  better 
than  this  craven  aspect,"  said  El  Reshid;  "of 
what  art  thou  afraid  ?  ' ' 

Issachar  tried  to  regain  himself  and  backed 
slowly  toward  the  door. 

"  Halt!  on  the  spot  where  thou  standest;  move 
not  an  inch." 

The  voice  of  El  Reshid  vibrated  with  a  musical 
intensity  that  echoed  long  after  in  the  soul. 

"Romanes,"  he  said,  turning  his  back  on  Issa 
char,  "  the  time  is  at  hand;  can'st  thou  face 
Aleppo?" 

The  Jew  again  attempted  to  reach  the  door,  but 
a  glance  from  the  masterful  eyes  of  El  Reshid  trans 
fixed  him  where  he  stood. 

"  I  fear  not  to  meet  Aleppo, "  answered  Romanes, 
"if  he  be  the  chosen  of  the  Olympians;  but  this 
vile  Jew  has  thrown  it  in  my  teeth  that  mine  own 
sou  has  disgraced  me,  even  me.  I  betrayed  the 
order;  but  if  this  be  so,  he  has  fallen  to  a  depth  of 
which  I  have  never  dreamed;  nor  would  I  behold 
him  now,  or  ever. " 

"The  devil  is  the  father  of  lies.  Stand  thou 
erect,  Romanes."  Then,  turning  to  the  Jew  he 
said  in  a  strange  tone,  so  vibrating  with  intensity 
that  it  seemed  scarcely  a  voice  at  all — 

"  Go  thou,  and  bring  Aleppo." 

Issachar  threw  at  him  a  terrified  glance. 

"  Go  thou,  and  bring  Aleppo." 


396  EL  RBSHID 

But  the  Jew,  while  shifting  his  eyes  from  point 
to  point,  remained  as  before. 

"  Go  thou,  and  bring  Aleppo." 

This  time  El  Reshid  stepped  nearer  and  touched 
his  spotless  robe,  at  the  same  time  holding  the 
glance  of  Issachar  upon  his  own,  which  blazed  with 
the  impelling  heat  of  will.  The  Jew  turned,  as 
though  walking  in  sleep,  and  glided  from  the  place, 
forced  by  a  power  beyond  him;  while  El  Reshid 
stood  calm,  immovable,  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
entrance.  A  half  hour  passed,  an  hour,  and  yet 
the  Master,  cold  as  marble,  rigid  as  granite,  unwav 
ering,  fixed,  remained  upon  the  identical  spot.  As 
we  have  said  before,  though  apparently  without 
motion,  one  might  have  felt  a  still  quiver  of  the 
nerves,  that  manifested  itself  in  the  power  with 
which  he  impressed  his  surroundings;  and  during 
this  long,  tense  time  Romanes  stood  with  bowed 
head,  a  shriveled  pine  that  the  blast  had  bent,  but 
failed  to  break. 

Could  one  have  studied  the  face  of  El  Reshid  dur 
ing  this  pregnant  hour  he  would  have  noticed  deli 
cate  changes  of  expression,  as  though  he  saw  at  a 
far  distance,  and  forced  action  upon  another  by  the 
power  of  an  overmastering  will;  it  was  evident, 
however,  that  his  whole  Unit  of  Force  was  called 
into  action,  and  that  the  strain  was  telling  as  the 
time  advanced. 

At  last,  the  cat-like  step  of  Issachar  was  heard 
upon  the  stairs,  and  the  young,  springing  gait  of 


THE  DAWN  397 

another  who  followed  at  his  heels.  Still  El  Reshid 
remained  rigid,  energized.  The  Jew  glided  into  the 
room  like  one  in  sleep,  and  behind  him  came 
Aleppo,  in  the  beauty  and  strength  of  unsullied 
3routh.  Upon  the  young  man  Romanes  cast  but  a 
glance  when  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  and 
he  turned  his  head  away. 

"Go,  thou  snake  of  Olympus,"  said  the  same 
strange  voice  of  El  Reshid,  "  back  to  the  Gehenna 
of  Phallic  worship  and  the  den  of  the  depraved; 
revel  for  once,  thyself,  in  the  beastliness  over  which 
thou  hast  gloated,  and  soil  thine  own  robes  with 
the  filth  of  the  slums — Go  ! 

Even  more  servile,  more  serpentine,  Issachar,  re 
coiling  upon  himself  and  moving  with  the  sinuos 
ity  of  the  reptile,  vanished  into  the  darkness, 
leaving  the  room  reeking  with  a  polluted  atmos 
phere  that  is  beyond  analysis. 

"Open  the  windows,"  said  the  Master;  then, 
bolting  the  doors,  he  retired  to  Romanes'  inner 
apartment,  leaving  father  and  son  together — alone. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
THE   DAWN. 

Regan  and  Sallus  lived  according  to  Catus'  in 
structions,  quietly  at  Stamboul,  having  firm  faith 
that  to  do  nothing  is  sometimes  a  part  of  wisdom. 
Catus  had  the  comet  attribute  of  coming  from  un- 


398  EL  RESHID 

expected   quarters  and   disappearing  to  others   as 
mysteriously  as  he  had  arrived. 

' '  I  shall  simply  remain  here  until  Caesar  ap 
pears,"  said  Regan;  there's  something  brewing,  or 
I'm  off  my  base."  And  Sallus  was  faithful,  too, 
though  his  life  of  inaction  was  telling  on  his 
healthy  nerves.  The  time  of  suspense  was  short, 
however.  They  were  at  home  one  evening,  in 
dulging  in  a  harmless  game  of  cards,  beating  each 
other  in  a  half-hearted  way,  when  Catus  entered. 
Both  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  for  they  felt  re 
joiced,  somehow,  though  seemingly  at  nothing.  He 
appeared  the  same,  his  face  telling  no  special  story 
of  either  good  or  bad  import. 

"  Well,"  said  Regan  anxiously. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  don't  smoke,"  said  Catus, 
lighting  up.  "  It  does  a  man  good  to  have  com 
pany  in  his  vices;  it  relieves  his  conscience,  makes 
him  feel  more  respectable,  etc." 

"  I  should  like  it  mighty  well,"  said  Regan,  "  in 
fact,  I  never  have  conquered  the  desire;  but  that's 
not  the  question.  I  simply  won't,  that's  all.  The 
very  fact  that  I  want  it  so  bad  makes  me  all  the 
more  stubborn.  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to 
be  bound  by  a  cursed  habit;  for  that  matter,  I  take 
special  pleasure  in  torturing  myself;  to  get  where 
tobacco  smoke  is  the  thickest  is  the  most  hellish 
delight  imaginable;  it's  a  pitched  battle  between 
will  and  desire.  I  always  did  enjoy  a  fight — like  it 
yet,  see  !" 


THE  DAWN  399 

"What's  the  news,"  said  Sallus,  as  though  half 
afraid  to  ask. 

Catus  puffed  away  in  the  most  aggravating  man 
ner,  holding  his  two  anxious  inquirers  in  suspense 
a  half  minute,  then  deliberately  took  his  cigar  from 
his  mouth,  inspected  the  lighted  end,  and  said 
slowly,  "  Aleppo  will  be  here  shortly." 

"What  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  sent  me  ahead." 

A  rap,  distinct  and  peculiar,  called  up  in  the 
minds  of  Sallus  and  Regan  pleasant  memories  of 
other  days. 

An  instant  more,  and  Aleppo  Romanes  stood  in 
their  midst. 

As  we  all  know,  there  are  times  when  words  fail 
us  utterly.  Regan  and  Sallus  were  dumb,  while 
the  young  man  who  had  paralyzed  their  tongues 
looked  joyfully  at  them.  He  had  the  old,  bright, 
beaming  smile,  his  eyes  flashing  a  wordless  love, 
and  his  mouth,  in  full  sympathy  with  them,  part 
ing  over  his  beautiful  teeth.  He  was  thinner, 
fairer,  but  otherwise  the  same — no,  he  had  acquired 
a  dignity,  a  poise,  an  insight,  which  his  friends  felt 
instantly,  but  failed  to  analyze. 

He  went  to  Regan  and  embraced  him  in  oriental 
fashion;  then  to  Sallus;  his  touch,  his  aspect,  tell 
ing  of  imperishable  gratitude. 

What  so  pregnant  as  a  silence  which  no  one 
dares  to  shatter? 

At  last  Catus  broke  the  spell.     He  had  thrown 


400  EL  RESHID 

away  his  cigar  on  the  entrance  of  Aleppo,  but 
when  the  stillness  became  unendurable  he  struck  a 
match  and  lighted  another.  This  loosened  their 
tongues,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  they  talked  with 
the  condensed  energy  that  had  gathered  from  long 
separation. 

•  Aleppo  related  his  experience  and  spoke  rever 
ently  of  his  father,  saying  in  a  grave  tone  that  he 
should  proceed  with  Catus  to  Damascus,  and  he 
must  tear  himself  from  those  to  whom  he  owed  so 
much.  This,  they  both  expected. 

"  It  is  just  what  we  looked  for,"  said  Regan, 
"  we  knew  you  would  fly  if  we  caught  you;  never 
theless,  we  were  determined  to  beat  the  Jew — where 
is  he?" 

"He  has  vanished,"  said  Catus;  "he  was 
wounded  and  has  crawled  into  the  jungle  to  re 
cover.  He  has  no  strength  at  present;  he 
wilted  in  the  full  glare  of  the  sun;  he's  a  night 
blossom." 

"  So,  then,  there  is  no  danger,"  said  Sallus. 

"None,  whatever.  To  trip  a  man  up  on  his 
climax  of  triumph  is  to  send  him  headlong;  he  fell 
far.  The  art  of  the  Master  who  would  achieve  a 
great  victory  lies  in  hitting  his  victim  in  his  weak 
est  spot.  Issachar,  gloating  over  Romanes,  was  a 
cat  revelling  with  its  prey;  his  vanity  ran  riot;  he 
lost  his  grip,  and  El  Reshid,  taking  advantage 
of  an  instant's  weakness,  threw  him  down  from 
his  pinnacle  of  triumph,  which  was  a  point  of  un- 


.THE  DAWN  401 

certain  foothold.  The  art  of  Mastership  is  as  ac 
curate  as  any  other;  to  bring  an  extreme  to  bear 
upon  an  extreme  is  the  strategy  of  war  and  the 
secret  of  conquest." 

All  the  time  that  Catus  was  talking  Regan  kept 
his  glance  fastened  on  Aleppo,  for  his  heart  was 
heavy  ;  he  had  dreamed  a  dream  in  his  innocence 
and  ignorance,  and  had  hoped  that  he  and  this  ap 
parently  homeless  boy  might  be  all  and  all  to  each 
other ;  but  as  the  greatness  of  the  young  man  be 
gan  to  dawn  upon  him,  while  his  heart  swelled 
with  honest  pride,  and  at  the  same  time  he  realized 
that  he  was  once  more  alone.  Rhea  had  become  a 
sweet  memory,  Sallus  dreamed  of  fair  France,  and 
now  Aleppo  would  steal  away  to  Damascus,  while 
he — a  tear  rolled  down  his  cheek,  which  he  shame 
facedly  brushed  away — 

"Look  here  Regan,"  said  Catus,  turning  sud 
denly  toward  him,  "  what's  the  matter  with  your 
joining  us?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  us?  " 

"  The  Order,  of  course." 

"Me?" 

"  Yes,  you  ;  I'm  sure  most  of  us  would  duck  our 
heads  when  you  came  on  deck,  we'd  have  to." 

"Guess  you  would,  said  Sallus.  "Regan  is  the 
greatest  philosopher,  in  my  opinion,  that  ever 
walked  the  earth  ;  neither  you  nor  El  Reshid  can 
hold  a  candle  to  him  ;  you'll  be  honored,  if  you  let 
him  in." 


402  EL  RESHID 

Another  tear  forced  itself  from  Regan's  eye, 
do  ?vm  on  to  his  swarthy  cheek  ;  he  was  never  so 
disgusted  with  himself  before,  in  his  life. 

"It  isn't  exactly  what  a  man  knows  that  opens 
the  door  of  the  order,  but  what  he  does.  Now 
Regan,  and  you  too,  have  done  something,  and,  in 
my  opinion,  are  the  most  modest  couple  that  I  ever 
met.  You  don't  seem  to  realize,  either  of  you,  that 
you  have  been  of  any  use,  whatever.  Approba- 
tiveness  is  left  off  your  heads,  I  imagine.  El  Reshid 
himself,  would  have  been  helpless,  without  you  ; 
there's  nobody  almighty,  you  know.  Yes,  gentle 
men,  your  names  are  both  up,  and  there's  no  dan 
ger  of  your  being  black-balled,  I'll  warn  you  of 
that." 

To  Catus'  chagrin  this  announcement  made  but 
little  impression  on  either  Regan,  or  Sallus  ;  in  fact, 
they  manifested  a  decided  indifference. 

"You  see,  it's  this  way, "said  Regan,  "neither 
Sallus  nor  I  worked  for  honors.  We  rather  like 
that  boy  over  there  for  his  own  sake  ;  and  don't  care 
a  rap  whether  he  is  destined  to  be  a  Mahatma,  or 
an  archangel.  We  admire  him  for  just  what  he  is, 
and  though  I  assure  you  that  we  feel  honored — we, 
for  I  think  I  know  Sallus  well  enough  to  speak  for 
him  also — shall  most  gladly  come  among  you,  if 
you  so  desire,  yet  I  must  warn  you  that  all  the 
condensed  wisdom  of  Hellas,  and  the  Yogi  powers 
of  India,  with  the  Kundalini  thrown  in,  can  never 


THE  DAWN  403 

take  the  place  with  me,  of  a  little  love  and  a  loyal 
friendship." 

Here  Aleppo  turned  his  quick,  masterful  glance 
on  Regan.  "  This  is  the  finality  of  philosophy  and 
the  secret  of  the  fiery  Nirvana,"  he  said. 

Regan  made  no  answer;  he  scarcely  understood. 

' '  There  is  work  for  you  in  the  order, ' '  said  Catus. 
We  deal  especially  with  fallen  women,  because  sex 
depravity  is  the  worm  that  burrows  at  the  root  of 
the  tree  of  life.  Now  there  is  Nita" — he  drew  a 
letter  from  his  pocket — "here  is  another — the 
second  this  week  —and  she  is  but  an  example  of  a 
hundred  more.  We  have  her  in  good  hands;  she 
is  learning  to  do  for  herself  and  becoming  very 
proud  of  her  virtues.  We  have  agents  everywhere, 
who  help  along,  and  furnish  employment  suitable 
for  these  women;  work  of  just  the  right  kind  seems 
to  come  to  them,  and  they  are  unaware  from  what 
source.  Some  marry,  but  more  go  as  missionaries 
to  their  unfortunate  sisters,  and  slyly  help  them. 
They  make  the  best  workers  imaginable,  for,  know 
ing  the  inferno  and  the  way  out  of  it,  they  have 
sympathy  and  charity  for  that  for  which  an  immacu 
late,  touch-not-my-garment  Pharisee  would  have  no 
patience." 

"Yes"'  said  Regan,  whose  mind  was  far  away 
from  the  subject,  "  when  do  you  go?  " 

1 '  To  Damascus  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  to  Damascus." 


404  EL,  RESHID 

"  In  a  few  days,"  answered  Catus;  but  Aleppo 
pierced  to  the  heart  of  the  question — 

"  I  will  write  to  you  continually,  Regan,  my 
adopted  father,  you  know  "—and  he  laughed. 
"  You  will  never  lose  me;  if  all  the  others  drift 
away,  I  shall  become  a  regular  bore,  and  torture 
you  with  letters  till  I  come  back  later  to  take  pos 
session  of  you  bodily — understand  ? ' ' 

The  honors  of  the  Order  of  Olympus  and  the 
prospect  of  future  glories  were  as  nothing  com 
pared  to  this.  Aleppo  had  restored  Regan's  equi 
librium  and  made  his  heart  beat  to  the  old  tune. 
Herein  lay  the  greatness  of  young  Romanes. 

"  And  Sallus — what  about  Sallus  ?  "  said  Catus. 

"  His  heart  is  in  France,"  answered  Regan,  and 
I  don't  wonder;  that  little  Cicily  is  the  rosiest 
magnet  alive." 

"  Who  is  Cicily  ?  "  said  Aleppo,  casting  on  Sallus 
a  puzzled,  reproachful  glance. 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  house  of  Issachar, 
L,ep,  where  you  stopped  for  a  few  hours  in  Cairo  ?  " 

"  But  slightly — ah  yes,  a  pretty  girl — of  course; 
I  couldn't  forget  her — no  man  could;  and  another 
who  wasn't  so  pretty,' '  laughingly. 

"  I  was  half  asleep,  but  I  saw  them  both." 

"And  the  beauty  is  Sallus'  sweetheart,"  said 
Regan,  boldly. 

A  spasm  of  pain  contracted  the  brows  of  Aleppo. 
There  is  a  selfishness  in  love  at  its  best,  and  a  slight 
jealousy  that  the  philosophy  of  the  sage  has  a  hard 


THE  DAWN  405 

tussel  with.  Aleppo  was  oriental  and  intense  in 
his  personal  affections.  Sallus  was  his  Apollo 
Belvidere,  and  this  pretty  girl — ah  !  love  even  has 
its  dark  side.  Under  the  trees  in  paradise  are 
shadowy  places.  Sallus  saw  the  pained  look  in 
Aleppo's  eyes,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
knew  supreme  happiness.  It  is  supposed  that  two 
men  are  incapable  of  love;  friendship  is  deemed 
quite  possible,  but  a  pure  devotion  is  considered  a 
dream;  nevertheless  Sallus  drew  close  to  Aleppo 
and  said  in  bis  blunt  fashion — 

"  Lep,  Cicily  means  a  good  deal  to  me,  but  not 
what  you  do;  understand,  you've  always  been  first 
and  always  will  be;  does  that  suit  you?" 

"  I'm  far  from  greatness,  "  said  Aleppo,  blushing 
with  shame  and  pleasure;  "about  you  I'm  as  selfish 
as  ever."  And  this  selfishness  made  Sallus  so  con 
tented  and  Aleppo  so  satisfied,  and  Regan  and  Catus 
so  good  natured,  that  we  question  the  evil  in  it  after 
all;  and  wonder  if  a  thing  great  could  ever  be 
realized  in  its  size,  if  it  failed  to  contrast  with  the 
small.  The  weakness  of  a  man,  but  emphasizes 
his  strength;  for  character  is  far  from  being  a  chain 
guaged  by  its  fickle  link.  The  roar  of  the  wild 
beast  may  be  harmless,  if  his  teeth  are  gone;  but 
woe  be  to  him  who  falls  into  the  clutches  of  one 
that  has  lost  nothing  but  his  voice. 

The  night  was  far  spent  when  Catus  and  Aleppo 
left  the  rooms  of  their  friends,  and  dawn  had  spread 
the  east  with  a  rosy  haze. 


408  EL  RESHID 

"  And  we  go  next  to  Damascus,"  said  Catus. 

"First  to  Cairo,"  answered  Aleppo. 

"To  Cairo?" 

Romanes  glanced  quickly  at  Catus;  he  seemed 
surprised. 

"  I  would  meet  Rhea  Nellino,"  he  continued. 

"Ah!"  A  pained  look  passed  over  the  coun 
tenance  of  Catus,  and  then  the  sun  in  full  majesty 
ascending  the  arc  of  heaven,  literally  dazzled  them 
with  the  splendor  and  fire  of  the  dawn. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

FRANCE. 

In  the  old  Roman  city,  Vinenne,  by  the  river 
Rhone,  on  the  veranda  of  a  rather  modern  French 
dwelling  house,  sat  the  irrepressible  Spino,  dis 
guised,  to  be  sure,  but  Spino  for  all  that.  Cicily's 
relatives  had  stripped  every  "  oriental  rag  "  from 
off  her  back,  and  dressed  her  up  in  modern  French 
garments,  suitable  to  her  age  and  condition.  She 
had  been  queer  before,  but  was  queerer  in  her 
present  habilaments;  in  fact  an  absurd  medley, 
made  up  of  a  black  silk  gown,  a  corset,  a  watch 
and  chain,  and  a  shriveled  personality  that  still 
displayed  its  one  tooth  and  cavernous  throat  in 
defiance  of  civilization  and  Parisian  dressmakers. 
She  was  painfully  conscious  of  all  this  and  more 
awkward  than  ever;  as  whatever  congruity  she 


FRANCE  407 

once  had  with  her  surroundings  was  lost,  and 
now,  as  she  expressed  it,  she  felt  like  "  a  cat  in  a 
rat's  skin."  There  was  much  left  bare  that  had 
once  been  covered ;  she  missed  the  convenient 
draperies  and  folds  in  which  she  had  formerry 
swathed  herself:  the  silk  gown  drew  tightly  about 
the  hips  and  was  low  at  the  neck,  the  wrists  and 
scrawny  hands  were  very  much  exposed,  while  her 
tufts  of  nondescript  hair,  were  strained  up  to  a 
peculiar  little  top-knot  that  nearly  pulled  her  eyes 
into  her  head;  she  had  been  decorated  with  gold- 
bowed  spectacles  and  a  pair  of  French  ear-rings, 
which  dangled  about  the  shrunken  tissue  of  her 
neck  in  tipsy  fashion  ;  while  she  sported  a  lace 
handkerchief,  a  smelling  bottle,  and  more  absurd 
still,  a  pair  of  high-heeled  Parisian  gaiters.  Alto 
gether  she  was  remarkable,  and  Sallus  spied  her  a 
long  way  off.  It  was  queer  that  an  old  hag  like 
that  should  set  his  heart  palpitating,  but  it  did, 
she  thrilled  the  young  man  from  head  to  foot,  and 
was  surpassingly  beautiful,  in  his  ardent  eyes.  In 
the  rapture  of  love  he  seized  her  by  the  hands 
and  kissed  her  effusively,  much  to  the  ancient 
dame's  delight. 

"  And  Cicily  ?  "  he  said,  out  of  breath. 

But  Spino  was  an  arrant  tease. 

"  She's  off  with  her  young  man." 

To  have  seen  the  lilies  chase  the  roses  from  the 
face  of  Sallus  would  have  been  to  pity  him,  but 
Spino  was  not  half  bad. 


408  EL  RESHID 

"To  tell  the  truth  she  has  watched  for  you 
ever  since  she  came  to  France,  and  has  refused 
no  end  of  offers.  She's  a  great  catch  here,  I  can 
tell  you;  her  cousin's  not  the  only  one.  Why  didn't 
you  come  sooner  ?  ' ' 

"  Am  I  too  late,"  asked  Sallus,  gloomily. 

"  You're  just  in  the  nick  of  time  " — she  took  out 
her  watch  with  a  great  flourish,  and  adjusted  her 
spectacles  to  ascertain  the  hour.  "  She'll  be  back 
after  a  while;  sit  down  can't  you.  When  did  you 
get  here?" 

"  This  morning;  as  I  wrote  Cicily  that  I  would 
come  as  soon  as  Aleppo  was  found.  I've  kept  my 
promise." 

"So  the  young  man  turned  up,  did  he,  and 
Issachar,  "why  on  earth  isn't  he  capturing  Cicily  ?' 

"  That's  what's  the  matter;  for  fear  of  any  such 
catastrophe  I  'm  here  to  marry  her — that  is,  if  she 
will.  Once  we  are  married,  I'll  defy  Issachar,  or 
any  other  Jew  to  lay  hands  on  her." 

"  What's  become  of  the  young  man?  " 

"  Oh,  I  bade  him  good-bye  temporarily;  he  leaves 
soon  for  Damascus  but  comes  back  after  a  time,  or 
I  go  there.  I  shall  see  him  again,"  said  Sallus 
with  a  slight  contraction  of  the  brows. 

(<  In  the  mean  time,  you  want  to  marry  Cicily." 

"  Most  assuredly;  that  is,  if  she  is  willing." 

"  Willing!  Now  let  me  tell  you  something.  I've 
been  downright  angry  at  the  girl  for  waiting  for 
you;  she's  refused  some  splendid  offers  since  you 


FRANCE  409 

saw  her  last.  If  I  had  been  she,  I'd  have  jumped 
at  the  first  one.  It's  absurd,  the  fool  she's  made  of 
herself,  and  for  a  fellow  like  you,  who  prefers  a 
young  man's  salvation  to  her  own;  who  puts  him 
first  and  foremost,  and  her  second.  It  wasn't  you 
who  saved  her,  understand,  but  Rhea.  Rhea's  her 
angel  as  that  Romanes  is  yours.  She'd  take  her  in 
preference  to  you  every  time,  but,  little  fool  that 
she  is,  seeing  that  Rhea  is  not  to  be  had,  she  pines 
for  you;  you  are  the  next  best,  that's  all,  and 
enough  according  to  my  idea.  Queer  couple  you 
are,  you  both  take  up  with  each  other  because  you 
can't  get  some  one  else;  and  I  suppose  you'll  go  on 
consoling  yourself  to  the  end  of  time." 

"  Cicily  is  but  another  name  for  constancy,"  said 
Sallus,  very  happy. 

"  Constancy,  and  you've  doubted  her  all  along; 
that's  why  you  don't  deserve  her.  You  were  sus 
picious  in  Cairo  and  in  Stamboul,  and  here  even, 
just  because  she  happens  to  be  dangerously  pretty. 
You  imagined  that  Issachar  made  a  tool  of  her;  I 
saw  it  the  first  time  we  met,  in  old  Khem." 

She  stood  up  on  her  French  heels  and  nearly 
toppled  over. 

"There,  granny,  sit  down  or  3'ou'll  lose  your 
balance." 

She  laughed  clear  down  to  the  epiglottis,  and 
sank  back  all  in  a  heap  on  the  veranda  bench. 

"  You  see,  if  I  misjudged  Cicily  in  the  old  days, 
you  certainly  got  a  wrong  idea  of  Issachar,  so  we're 
quits." 


410  EL,  RESHID 

"  Please  explain  yourself,  my  heart's  desire." 

1 '  You  said  it  was  money  that  he  was  after,  but 
it  wasn't;  it  was  simply  revenge.'' 

"  He  managed  to  rake  in  the  coin  all  the  same." 
she  answered,  unconvinced. 

"  He  has  bled  Cicily's  relatives,  I  am  pretty  con 
fident  from  what  they  tell  me;  however,  that  is 
neither  here  nor  there,  he's  out  of  the  way,  and 
I'm  glad  of  it.  There's  no  telling  how  long  he'll 
stay  though,"  but  Sallus'  mind  was  on  another 
subject. 

"  Will  Cicily's  relatives  object  to  her  marrying 
me,  do  you  think,  granny?  " 

"  I  suppose  you're  able  to  sustain  her?"  The 
old  woman's  expression  was  very  severe,  as  though 
she  expected  this  ardent  suitor  to  plead  poverty  on 
the  spot. 

"  I  guess  I've  enough,"  he  answered  indiffer 
ently.  "I  get  the  income  of  a  pretty  good  pile 
which  my  father  has  looked  out  for.  Cicily  will  have 
to  take  me  on  trust,  though,  for  what  I  am  today, 
not  for  what  I  was."  Here  he  blushed. 

"Cicily  will  take  you,  there's  no  doubt  about  that, 
but  in  my  opinion  she's  a  fool;  I  wouldn't  have 
you  if  you  got  down  on  your  knees." 

"Granny,  you're  cruel."  His  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  door.  Framed  by  a  climbing  honeysuckle, 
rosy,  tantalizing,  Miss  Cicily,  the  little  eavesdrop 
per,  kissed  him  with  her  saucy  eyes,  which  had  the 
touch-me-not,  I-love-you  expression.  It  would  be 


FRANCE  411 

this  little  maiden's  fate  to  tantalize  the  man  she 
loved,  or  any  other,  to  the  end  of  her  days,  and 
Sallus'  prospect,  while  bright  enough,  had  its  little 
sun -tinted  tortures,  which  it  would  be  his  fate  to 
endure. 

"  Cicily,' '  he  said,  going  toward  her  and  extend 
ing  his  hands,  "I  have  come  to  marry  you — will 
you  have  me  ?  " 

He  felt  like  a  cruel  schoolboy  chasing  a  butter 
fly,  but  the  answer  of  the  young  lady  quite  took 
away  his  breath. 

"Yes,  if  you'll  be  quick  about  it." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  Issachar?  " 

"Somewhat,  but  not  so  much  as  of  other  men  ; 
besides,  there's  Spino.  I've  wished  a  hundred 
times  to  be  back  in  Cairo." 

"We'll  go  there,"  answered  Sallus,  "and  to 
Syria  and  Thibet — anywhere  to  get  to  a  place  of 
safety." 

While  the  prettiness  of  Cicily  was  still  evident, 
it  was  not  in  the  least  enhanced  by  the  Parisian 
touch.  She  looked  like  a  French  fashion  plate, 
and  Sallus  mentally  vowed  that  he  would  persuade 
her  into  half-oriental  garments,  as  soon  as  he  had 
the  right. 

Venus  must  have  taken  great  delight  in  this 
young  couple  ;  not  the  mystic  Urania,  but  the 
Aphrodite  of  the  sea  foam;  and  Sappho,  too,  would 
have  written  them  a  bridal  hymn,  no  doubt,  had 
she  been  living,  for  they  were  beautiful  in  flesh  and 


412  EL  RESHID 

blood  and  burning  with  youth.  Spino,  though 
she  scoffed  and  made  fun,  and  condemned  and 
preached,  enjoyed  for  the  time,  a  little  earthly 
bliss,  by  proxy  or  sympathy,  or  some  other  emotion 
rather  hard  to  understand. 

Of  course,  the  relatives  of  Cicily  could  say  noth 
ing;  she  was  dependant  on  their  bounty  and  her 
knight  had  come  armed  with  sovereigns,  which  he 
threw  at  their  heads.  Her  numerous  lovers  vowed 
vengeance,  whicli  they  never  attempted  to  carry 
out,  and  Issachar,  if  aware  of  this  French  idyl, 
made  no  aggressive  sign.  Even  the  father  of  Sallus 
dispatched  his  unqualified  approval,  and  Regan  and 
Aleppo  wished  them  joy.  Everything  was  as  it 
should  be,  and  were  this  tale  to  end  here  it  would 
be  thoroughly  conventional  and  true  to  the  popular 
demand. 

On  the  morning  on  which  they  were  married  the 
sun  was  bright,  the  air  balmy,  friends  and  relations 
cordial,  and  Spiuo  had  flowers  in  her  hair.  There 
were  presents,  congratulations,  slippers  and  rice. 
Altogether,  it  was  a  romantic  love  affair,  ending  in 
the  good,  old-fashioned  way.  Ending?  Does  love 
subside  with  marriage,  and  is  courtship  the  grave 
of  Eros?  Not  always. 

They  left  France,  and  Spino,  who  though  a  little 
sore  and  terribly  homesick  for  Egypt,  nevertheless, 
refused  to  countenance  their  honeymoon  with  her 
presence.  But  when  they  had  gone  the  old  woman 
went  by  herself  to  a  deserted  graveyard  and  sobbed 


FRANCE  4H 

her  grief  out  on  the  tombstones,  as  though  the 
cold  marble  had  a  sympathetic  touch  and  felt  her 
woe. 

So  it  is;  too  much  of  happiness  in  one  direction 
deprives  somebody — always  somebody.  An  excess 
of  love  poured  out  on  a  fortunate  head  leaves  a 
poor  heart  shivering.  The  balance  seems  to  be 
lost  temporarily  and  Justice,  with  her  face  awry, 
belies  her  name.  In  truth,  though,  the  equilibrium 
is  preserved  and  the  instability  is  but  apparent,  for 
life,  in  its  finality,  is  self-settling. 

"  I  want  you  to  know  Regan  better,"  said  Sallus 
as  he  placed  his  young  wife  in  a  steamer  chair  near 
the  ship's  rail. 

They  were  on  the  Mediterranean,  going  any 
where  or  nowhere,  simply  absorbing  the  blue  above 
and  below. 

"Couldn't  he  come  with  us?"  said  Cicily 
naively. 

"  I  think  not. "  But  Sallus  sighed,  and  she  took 
note.  "  He  is  a  queer  individual  and  the  greatest 
philosopher  on  earth,  but  he  takes  the  loss  of 
Aleppo  and  me  very  hard.  I  wouldn't  have 
thought  it,  but  he  does.  It  seems  to  be  the  fate  of 
some  folks  that  just  as  they  get  attached  to  a  body 
and  find  him  conducive  to  happiness,  he  is  snatched 
away  by  someone  else.  It's  hard,  I  tell  you,"  and 
he  sighed  again;  she  made  a  second  note.  Those 
two  pronounced  sighs  of  Sallus'  were  the  black 
wings  of  the  raven  that  persisted  in  hovering  over 


4U  fcl,  RKSHID 

her  head.  She  knew,  through  the  jealous  instinct 
of  woman,  that  Sallus  had  other  loves  besides  her 
self,  and,  in  her  pique,  she  remembered  Rhea,  whom 
she  determined  should  eclipse  Sallus  forever  in  her 
eyes.  Rhea  was  the  silver  moon  who  was  fated  to 
put  out  her  sun  periodically  as  long  as  she  drew 
breath. 

But  the  Mediterranean  was  blue,  and  the  empy 
rean  another  sea,  and  they,  between  sky  and  earth, 
floated  outward  into  life,  with  its  lights  and  shad 
ows,  its  night  and  day. 


CHAPTER  XL. 
THE  SETTING  SUN. 

"  You  will  go  to  El  Reshid,"  said  Romanes,  gaz 
ing  directly  at  his  son,  who  had  come  to  his  apart 
ment  to  bid  him  farewell.  There  was  a  certain 
pride  in  his  eyes,  as  they  rested  on  the  young  man, 
which  Aleppo  had  failed  to  notice,  so  intent  was  he 
in  admiring  his  father,  whose  dignity  and  reserve 
excited  his  profound  respect.  The  look  on  Alep 
po's  face,  his  smile,  a  subtle  something  beyond  an 
alysis,  called  Helene  to  Romanes' mind  and,  though 
he  made  no  sign,  in  fact,  assumed  an  expression  of 
haughtiness,  within,  his  heart  ached  with  the  old 
pain  that  Helene  had  caused  him  on  that  wild  night 
in  Paris,  when  she  slipped  his  grasp  and  went  out 
like  an  extinguished  taper.  So,  too,  was  Aleppo 
going.  A  star,  flashing  in  the  dark  over  Romanes' 


THE  SETTING  SUN  415 

head,  was  about  to  be  extinguished,  and  yet,  hold 
ing  his  feeling  in  hand  with  supreme  mastership,  he 
impressed  his  son  with  a  sense  of  dignity  that 
amounted  to  awe.  Aleppo  felt  that  in  all  his  life 
he  had  never  seen  so  imposing  a  figure;  and  the 
consciousness  that  he  himself  was  of  him,  bone  and 
muscle,  mind  and  heart,  filled  him  with  an  ambi 
tion  beyond  any  past  conjecture,  and  he  secretly 
vowed  that  he  would  make  himself  worthy  of  the 
kinship,  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  On  the  con 
trary,  this  man  of  bone  and  muscle,  mind  and 
heart,  wondered  if  sometime,  somewhere,  he 
should  gain  his  lost  position  and  become  the  peer 
of  his  son;  if  he  would  yet  be  able  to  lovingly 
challenge  the  rising  stars  that  he  beheld  already 
flashing  in  Aleppo's  eyes. 

We  have  said  that  Romanes  saw  the  uplifted 
beauty  in  his  son's  face  which  had  already 
charmed  him  in  Helene,  but  an  unbiased  judge 
would  have  said  that  the  two  men,  as  they  stood 
face  to  face,  were  strangely  alike,  even  to  the 
masterful  quickness  of  eye,  which  gave  them  both 
that  electric  glance  that  is  never  seen  save  in  the 
faces  of  the  great. 

Romanes,  masked  in  the  reserve  of  silence,  as 
was  his  custom  on  critical  occasions,  so  awed 
Aleppo  that  his  desire  of  affectionate  expression 
was  checked  also,  though  otherwise  he  would  have 
embraced  his  father  and  talked  freely,  as  in  his 
young  impulsiveness  he  longed  to  do.  Before  their 


416  EL  RESHIP 

meeting  he  had  thought  of  a  thousand  things  that 
he  desired  to  ask  him,  if  that  happy  time  ever  ar 
rived  ;  he  would  speak  of  his  mother,  his  memory 
of  her,  her  beauty  ;  but  no  'word  could  he  bring 
himself  to  utter  on  the  subject ;  the  mystery  of  her 
life  seemed  too  sacred  to  probe. 

"  You  will  go  to  El  Reshid,  and  later  will  suc 
ceed  him  as  master  of  the  Olympians,"  said 
Romanes. 

With  the  question  the  consciousness  of  kinship 
in  Aleppo's  mind  was  replaced  by  independent 
opinion,  and  he  gave  answer  with  a  positiveness 
that  amounted  to  a  finality. 

"Of  that  I  know  nothing.  El  Reshid  is  but  a 
man.  The  order  must  necessarily  act  as  a  -break 
on  individuality.  I  am  not  prepared  to  commit 
myself.  The  teacher  ceases  his  vocation  when  the 
pupil  is  no  more.  I  seek  neither  being  nor  order. 
Truth  is  my  magnet,  and  it  will  I  have." 

The  apparent  conceit  of  this  remark  seemed 
worthy  of  his  youth.  It  startled  Romanes,  and  a 
look  of  admiration  flashed  in  his  eyes,  which  he 
strove  to  conceal." 

"To  El  Reshid,  however,"  continued  Aleppo, 
"  I  owe  untold  gratitude,  and  though  truth  in  the 
abstract  is  undoubtedly  a  final  aim,  a  teacher  is  a 
means  to  the  end.  His  letters  appeal  to  my  reason 
and  my  instinct.  It  was  not  so  much  the  man  back 
of  them  as  the  truth  behind  him,  that  aroused 
my  consciousness  and  impelled  me  to  seek  further. " 


THE  SETTING  SUN  417 

"  But  the  man,  himself,  is  a  magnet,"  answered 
Romanes,  looking  keenly  at  his  son. 

"Ah,  you  speak  of  attraction  for  himself — do  I 
love  him;  that  bears  naught  on  the  question  of  his 
instructions  save  indirectly;  I  might  adore  one  who 
could  teach  me  nothing." 

"But  his  powers?"  Romanes  stepped  closer 
and  looked  even  more  keenly  at  Aleppo. 

"  True,  I  have  witnessed  their  manifestation,  and 
have  discovered  also  that  by  no  art  of  his  can  he 
transfer  them.  In  no  way  can  he  graft  a  limb  of 
himself  on  to  me,  as  you  insert  the  cutting  of  a 
peach  tree  into  the  body  of  a  plum.  The  law, 
however,  through  which  he  works  is  as  universal  as 
is  that  of  gravitation,  and  is  no  more  his  than 
mine." 

"  But  he  knows  its  secret,  and  you  do  not." 

"  Yet  will  I, "said  Aleppo,  straightening  himself. 
"If  El  Reshid  deem  me  worthy  he  will  so  inform 
me;  if  not,  I  will  discover  it  myself" 

A  smile  touched  and  vanished  from  the  lips  of 
Romanes;  his  son's  egotistic  audacity,  which 
amounted  to  authority,  thrilled  his  nerves  and 
startled  them  fora  moment  into  unwonted  life. 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  you,"  touching  his  head  and 
his  heart,  and  drawing  away  from  Aleppo  as  a  sig 
nal  of  parting. 

The  young  man's  pulse  fairly  bounded;  he  longed 
to  rush  to  this  man  by  -his  side  and  embrace  him, 
for  he  felt  that  on  earth  thev  would  never  meet 


418  EL  RESHID 

again,  but  his  lofty  demeanor,  his  mask  of  dignity 
so  impressed  him,  that  he  restrained  all  outward 
manifestation  like  a  true  son  of  the  Orient,  and 
returning  the  salute,  went  slowly  from  the  room, 
his  eyes  fastened  on  those  of  his  father  as  long  as 
he  remained  in  view.  By  a  strange  association  of 
ideas  Romanes  remembered  a  hotel  in  Vienna  and  a 
similar  parting  with  Helene.  With  the  closing  of 
the  door  he  automatically  arranged  a  few  trifles  and 
locked  his  desk;  then,  going  to  the  window,  he 
noticed  that  the  sun  had  long  since  crossed  the 
zenith  and  was  fast  descending  the  western  sky. 
Placing  some  letters  in  his  pocket,  and  casting  a 
strange  glance  over  the  room,  he  left  it  and  sought 
the  outer  world.  As  he  passed  into  the  street,  he 
walked  with  an  unsteady  gait,  and  the  sunlight 
brought  out  the  silver  in  his  abundant  hair.  He 
glanced  over  the  Golden  Horn  with  the  same  pecu 
liar  glance;  at  the  masts1,  and  minarets,  the  towers 
and  ships;  from  the  heights  he  scanned  the 
Bosporus,  on,  on  to  the  Mysian  Olympus,  cov 
ered  with  snow  ;  his  eyes  seemingly  immovable, 
resting  for  long  minutes  on  the  range,  dim,  beauti 
ful,  beyond  him,  holding  his  gaze  with  the  fascina 
tion  of  an  unapproachable  ideal.  Then,  slowly 
turning  his  back  on  the  Occident,  far  away  ling- 
land,  his  beloved  France,  the  cold  peaks  of  Switzer 
land  and  the  mysterious  Byzantium,  he  crossed  to 
Asia,  and  became  to  the  rising  west  but  a  legend 
and  a  dream. 


VANISHED  419 

CHAPTER  XLL 
VANISHED. 

Caesar  Catus  was  at  home  in  Cairo;  and  all 
things  were  as  they  had  been  in  his  luxurious 
apartments,  even  to  the  Arab,  who  materialized  and 
dematerialized,  as  in  times  past.  He,  himself,  in 
his  oriental  gown  and  Turkish  fez,  looked  as  young 
and  unconcerned  as  he  had  done  before  undertaking 
the  role  of  executor  and  man  of  affairs.  He  had 
come  out  of  severe  work  to  luxury,  unscathed, 
and  drew  hard  at  his  Havana,  undisturbed  by  a 
spasm  of  conscience  or  a  pang  of  regret.  Since 
last  embraced  by  the  arms  of  his  stuffy  chair  he 
had  traveled  extensively,  labored  along  numerous 
lines  unceasingly,  lived  abstemiously,  and  suffered 
severely.  But  tonight  he  is  as  benign  as  the 
climate  of  Egypt,  and  as  natural  a  child  of  luxury 
as  the  Sultan  himself. 

He  had  been  seated  but  a  short  time  when 
Regan  and  Aleppo  entered  the  room,  and  made 
themselves  as  much  at  home  as  was  Caesar  him 
self.  They  had  been  in  Cairo  but  an  hour  or 
two,  and  Catus  and  Romanes  were  expecting  to 
leave  on  the  following  day.  Regan,  who  still  re 
tained  his  rooms  there,  had  captured  Aleppo 
bodily,  and  vowed  that  he  would  hold  him  until  he 
departed  for  Damascus.  He  had  accompanied  him 
to  Cairo,  declaring  that  he  should  remain  in  the 
Egyptian  city  indefinitely,  as  one  part  of  the  world 


420  EL  RESHID 

was  as  good  as  another,  and  that,  besides,  it  was 
just  possible  that  Sallus  and  Cicily  might  wander 
that  way. 

"I  am  going  out  with  Aleppo, "said he  to  Catus, 
"  to  locate  Rhea's  residence;  I  will  then  return  to 
you  and  leave  them  together." 

"Are  you  sure,"  said  Catus,  'that  she  is  still 
here?" 

"  Not  at  all,  though  she  vowed  to  remain  till  she 
learned  something  definite  of  Aleppo;  however,  it 
does  no  harm  to  inquire. " 

While  Regan  was  talking,  young  Romanes  stood 
staring,  with  a  fixed  gaze,  at  the  cast  of  Miss 
Nellino,  which  stood  on  a  pedestal,  where  a  soft, 
oriental  lamp  threw  a  rosy  glow  on  the  pure 
Greek  profile  and  graceful  neck. 

"How  came  you  by  that?"  he  said,  lifting 
his  large  eyes  to  those  of  Catus. 

"  I  made  it  from  memory." 

Aleppo  looked  searchingly  at  Caesar  for  a 
moment,  then  turned  again  to  the  bust,  and  re 
mained  silent  till  Regan  reminded  him  that  it  was 
time  to  make  search  for  Rhea. 

"  Do  you  feel  that  she  is  here  ' '  said  Regan,  as 
they  walked  toward  the  familiar  street,  where  he 
had  seen  her  before,  under  the  trellis  of  roses. 

"  No,"  answered  Romanes,  but  beyond  this  he 
said  nothing. 

The  house  appeared  at  last,  faintly  and  half 
defined,  for  the  night  was  dark;  then  Regan  turned 


VANISHED  421 

abruptly  and  left  Aleppo  near  the  garden  gate. 
He  looked  vaguely,  as  if  in  a  dream,  at  the  dim, 
shadowy  cottage,  and  the  faint  light  that  stole  out 
through  the  window,  then  went  slowly  to  the 
entrance  and  knocked  upon  the  door.  It  was 
opened  by  a  servant,  who  ushered  him  into  a  small 
apartment,  where  he  awaited  the  mistress,  who 
appeared  later,  and,  as  he  expected,  was  an  entire 
stranger.  He  bowed,  however,  and  enquired  calmly 
if  she  could  tell  him  anything  of  a  Miss  Nellino, 
who  had  recently  occupied  the  house. 

"Ah,  the  beautiful  young  lady!  I  am  sorry  sir, 
but  I  cannot,  except  that  she  left  here  with  her 
aunt,  at  the  time  I  took  the  place." 

"  You  have  no  idea  in  what  direction  she  went  ?  " 

"Not  the  slightest;  but  I  have  found  a  lovely 
picture  of  her  which  she  must  have  forgotten; 
would  you  like  that  sir?" 

A  slightly  sarcastic  smile  flew  off  from  Aleppo's 
lips — as  if  a  picture  could  take  the  place  of  Rhea — 
but  he  replied,  politely,  in  the  negative  and  arose 
to  depart. 

"  Wait  a  moment  please,  perhaps  Sahib  will  know; 
and  she  called  her  man-servant  whom  she  found  as 
ignorant  on  the  subject  as  herself.  The  door 
closed  deprecatingly  after  Aleppo,  as  if  it  were 
sorry  also;  and  he,  in  the  same  dream,  out  of  which 
he  had  temporarily  emerged,  wandered  back  to  the 
room  of  Catus. 


42'2  RL  RESHID 

"She.  has  gone?"  said  Regan,  when  Romanes 
entered. 

He  smiled  an  answer,  which  spake  more  em 
phatically  than  a  monosyllable,  and  contradicted 
his  eyes,  that  his  friends  found  hard  to  fathom. 

The  next  day  Aleppo  and  Catus  bade  Regan 
farewell,  and  proceeded  on  their  way  to  Syria  and 
the  dwelling  place  of  El  Reshid. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
ON  THE  WAY  TO  DAMASCUS. 

The  environment  of  ancient  Joppa  is  rich  with 
citrus  groves,  and  during  the  spring,  carpets  of 
gorgeous  flowers  are  spread  over  the  far  reaching 
plain  in  oriental  tints,  thick  and  luxurious  like 
Persian  rugs.  The  air  is  heavy  with  the  breath 
of  orange  blossoms,  while  the  hedges  of  prickly 
cactus  stand  on  guard;  and  this  most  ancient  city, 
with  the  Mediterranean  at  its  feet  and  a  tropical 
sky  overhead,  was  said  to  be  the  port  where,  in  the 
far-off  past,  the  famous  cedars  of  Lebanon  were 
landed  for  the  building  of  that  half  mythical  temple 
from  which  came  the  voice  of  the  the  oracle  and 
the  wisdom  of  Solomon. 

Here  young  Romanes  and  Catus  paused  on  their 
way  to  Damascus,  meeting  parties  of  travelers 
with  their  horses  and  tents  returning  from  the 
famous  city,  and  others  about  to  start,  all  focussing 


ON  THE  WAY  TO   DAMASCUS  423 

at  the  entrance  of  the  hotel  where  Aleppo  and 
Catus  stopped.  For  some  reason,  hardly  under 
stood  by  themselves,  they  had  concluded  to  remain 
over  the  succeeding  day  at  Joppa,  taking  their  trip 
to  Damascus  leisurely,  and  as  impulse  dictated. 

On  the  following  morning  after  their  arrival, 
Aleppo  strolled  out  into  the  suburbs  of  the  city, 
and  seeing  in  the  distance  a  gnarled  and  ancient 
tree,  that  might,  for  aught  he  knew,  have  sheltered 
the  head  of  the  sainted  Paul,  he  walked  toward  it 
and  discovered  a  horse  tied  loosely  to  its  trunk, 
while  sitting  near,  her  seat  a  stone,  was  a  woman 
slender  and  familiar,  who  caused  young  Romanes 
to  pause,  as  though  transfixed.  For  an  instant  only, 
then  she  raised  her  eyes,  large,  beautiful,  sad,  and 
looked  into  those  of  Aleppo,  as  though  she  had 
waited  long. 

"Rhea!  " 

She  arose  and  went  toward  him,  in  the  old  way, 
with  both  hands  extended,  looking  thinner,  fairer. 

Aleppo  asked  no  question;  he  could  not  speak; 
he  was  becoming  like  his  father,  the  oriental  nature 
having  asserted  itself,  and  with  it  that  powerful 
enthusiasm  which  finds  no  vent  in  words. 

Rhea  trembled  a  little  and  leaned  against  the 
half-dead  tree,  whose  withered  and  scraggy 
branches  formed  a  strange  canopy  for  her  young 
and  beautiful  head. 

"  I  have  come  from  Cairo,"  said  Aleppo.  "I 
sought  you  there." 


424  EL  RESHID 

"And  I  have  seeii  Kl  Reshid,"  she  answered, 
dropping  her  eyes,  and  breaking  a  little  twig  to 
pieces. 

The  name  once  so  magical  brought  a  chill  to  his 
heart  and  froze  his  blood — El  Reshid  ! 

Near  by,  in  the  flower  vale  of  Syria,  stood  the  one 
of  all  others  that  expressed  to  him  the  wiUhery 
and  beauty  of  woman.  To  be  near  her  was  to  be 
in  Paradise,  to  thrill  with  the  rapture  of  nature  and 
the  passion  of  the  muse.  To  touch  her  was  to  be 
come  herself,  and  to  forget  his  name  and  race.  To 
hear  her  was  to  listen  to  the  ^Eoliaii  harp,  whose 
strings  were  swept  by  the  fingers  of  the  Immortals. 

And  she,  with  downcast  eyes,  has  spoken  the 
name — El  Reshid — that  turned  him  to  ice.  His  life 
had  been  in  her  hands;  had  she,  herself,  not  said 
it,  he  would  have  fallen  at  her  feet. 

Is  it  left  always  with  the  great  among  women  to 
decide  at  last  what  man  shall  be  ?  Are  they  not 
only  the  mothers  of  men,  but  their  fate  also  ?  Had 
she  not  spoken,  Aleppo  Romanes  would  have 
buried  the  name  of  El  Reshid  in  the  oblivion  of 
memory,  and  fled  from  Syria  and  his  high  destiny. 
The  flower  in  his  hand  he  would  have  crushed  by 
his  very  passion,  and  the  laurel  of  the  Immortal 
would  have  been  covered  by  the  sod.  No  other 
soul  on  earth,  nor  in  the  unive;se,  could  have 
tempted  him  to  this,  save  Rhea  Nellino.  But 
somehow  she  had  caught  a  glimpse,  with  that 
wonderful  prophetic  glance,  of  a  series  of  heights — • 


ON_  THE   WAY  TO   DAMASCUS  425 

a  Pelion  piled  on  Ossa,  a  heaven  on  Paradise,  a 
magical  Maha  Meru,  where  love  itself  is  immortal, 
and  where  the  shadow  of  the  tomb  is  not.  She  had 
come  out  from  among  the  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
where  the  flickering  light  is  lost  in  shade,  to  the 
splendor  of  the  mountain-top  where  earth  is  be 
neath,  and  the  sky,  endless,  starry,  divine. 

"There  is  but  one  thing  that  can  make  me 
happy,"  she  said,  gazing  tenderly  on  his  sorrowful, 
startled  face,  "but  one  thing — your  greatness.  The 
farther  you  climb,  the  more  enraptured  shall  I  be 
come.  We  wed  upon  the  heights. " 

With  a  shock,  similar  to  that  felt  by  him  at  the 
temple  of  Ammon,  when  he  passed  through  the 
sacred  gates,  he  suddenly  realized  that  to  lose  her 
was  to  find  her,  that  to  part  in  flesh  was  to  meet  in 
spirit,  where  time  and  space  and  death  are  not,  in 
the  mystical  Hesperides,  the  charmed  Elysium 
within  the  soul  itself;  and  to  do  this  he  must  be 
great.  Already  had  she  forestalled  him,  and  was 
returning  from  the  teacher  whom  he  sought.  Al- 
.  ready  was  she  above  him  looking  down  into  his 
eyes.  To  reach  her  he  must  rise;  to  meet  her  they 
must  part. 

Since  first  he  sought  truth,  he  had  faced  the 
paradox.  On  Libya  he  had  battled  with  the 
sphinx,  and  here,  beneath  his  own  Bo  tree,  the 
master  puzzle,  the  supreme  problem  slowly  un 
ravelled  itself  in  the  eyes  of  Rhea  Nellino. 


15 


426  -  EL  RESHID 

It  was  a  long   sweet    day,    and    in   the   balance 
with  the  life  time  of  the  rhythmic  man  was  as  gold 
is  to  a  feather.      They   talked    of  the    future,    the 
eternal,  the  divine;  and  when  the  sun  went  down, 
Rhea  Nellino  left  him  in  an  after-glow  of  splendor, 
even  more  thrilling  than  the  magic  orb  itself. 
The  hurrying  years  may  come  and  go, 
And  groups  of  stars  spin  onward  in  their  flight, 
But  time  and  space  are  naught  to  him, 
Who  greets  each  morn  the  rising  sun, 
Where  looms  Olympus  white  and  lone, 
In  endless  waste  of  heavenly  blue. 
And  here  upon  the  wooded  hill, 
Whose  heart  with  bliss  did  once  o'erflow, 
A  singer  sang  and  singeth  still. 


CHAPTER    XLHI. 
THE  MASTER. 

Catus  and  Aleppo  ascended  the  hill  on  the 
north,  that  commands  a  superb  view  of  the  white 
and  rose  city  of  Damascus,  lying  like  a  shaded 
opal  in  its  setting  of  green;  the  outlying  stretches, 
a  blending  of  garden  and  forest,  extending  away 
into  the  distance,  where  miniature  lakes  flash  like 
blue  gems  in  the  morning  sun. 

This  marvelous  view  of  ancient  Esh  Sham,  from 
whose  red  virgin  soil  Adam  is  said  to  have  sprung; 
this  glimpse  of  the  land  of  Eden,  and  haven  of  St. 
Paul,  is  one  of  the  famous  sights  of  earth. 


THE  MASTER  427 

From  the  high  summits  of  Anti  Lebanon  one 
sweeps  the  wonderful  plain,  El  Cuta,  extending, 
verging  even  upon  Paradise  which  is  the  dream  of  the 
Arab  and  the  ideal  of  the  poet.  And  Damascus, 
"The  White  Swan,"  with  wings  spread,  its 
feet  just  touching  the  waters  of  the  glistening 
Pharpar  and  the  winding  Abana,  rises  as  it  would 
seem  from  the  living  green  of  earth  to  the  ethereal 
blue  of  heaven,  bearing  upward  the  mighty 
thoughts  of  the  wise  and  aspirations  of  the  great 
Damascus  !  at  last.  Before  Aleppo  was  spread  a 
realized  vision,  a  verified  panorama  that  his  inner 
eye  had  scanned  again  and  again  in  the  past.  The 
great  mosques,  the  minarets,  the  domes,  the  golden 
crescents,  the  fragile  blossoms  of  the  peach,  the 
leaves  of  the  somber  olive,  the  spire-like  cypress, 
the  glow,  the  flash,  the  splendor  which  distance 
lends,  even  the  subtle  perfume  of  the  roses,  the 
shifting  veil  of  lucent  mist,  all  about  him,  as  seen 
within  a  thousand  times,  clear,  expanded,  sub 
lime. 

Then  Catus,  who,  hushed  like  himself,  had 
stood  entranced,  turned  abruptly,  and  said  in  a 
resolute  voice,  pitched,  however,  in  a  minor, 
melancholy  key: 

"I  return  to  Cairo;  you  know  the  way;  find  the 
garden;  fare  you  well." 

He  looked  away  from  Romanes  to  the  summit  of 
Anti  Lebanon,  and  extended  his  hands.  For  an 
instant  Aleppo  felt  that  this  could  not  be;  it  had 


428  El/  RESHID 

been  a  series  of  partings;  they  had  all  gone,  one 
after  the  other,  and  now,  even  Catus.  But  he 
mastered  himself,  and  answering  the  salute  of  his 
friend  in  his  usual  silent  way,  turned  from  Caesar 
and  slowly  descended  toward  Damascus. 

He  passed  through  "Straight  Street"  and 
wandered  on,  on,  till  at  last,  before  an  unobtrusive, 
dingy  door,  he  paused  and  knocked.  It  was  so 
low  that  to  enter  he  must  needs  stoop;  but  once 
beyond  it  he  heard  the  rush  of  water,  and  beheld  a 
sparkling,  narrow  stream,  on  the  banks  of  which 
were  ferns  and  reeds,  where  everywhere  along  the 
paths  were  shrubs  and  roses. 

Within  this  garden,  which  seemed  so  familiar  to 
Aleppo,  was  a  small  building  of  four-domed 
columns,  through  which  the  Soft  air  stole,  heavy 
with  perfume  and  resonant  with  music.  A  Smyrna 
rug  had  been  thrown  upon  the  floor,  and  upon  this 
Aleppo  threw  himself,  with  the  ease  and  natural 
ness  of  an  oriental,  and  leaning  his  head  upon  his 
hand  he  fell  again  into  a  dream.  It  would  have 
seemed  a  long  time  to  another,  but  to  him  it  was 
but  a  few  minutes,  when  a  man  came  rapidly  down 
the  garden  path  and  entered  the  airy  structure. 

Romanes  rose  immediately  to  his  feet  and  made  a 
profound  salute,  but  El  Reshid  waved  it  aside  with 
a  smile  and  shake  of  his  head,  and  said: 

''Recline  please,  as  I  shall  do,  and  let  us  talk." 

El  Reshid  changed  his  manner,  on  occasion,  as  he 
did  his  garment.  I  n  the  Occident  he  had  worn  the 


THE  jMASTER  429 

garb  of  a  Parisian  and  spoken  in  a  dignified  foreign 
tongue;  here  upon  Damascan  soil  he  wore  an  ori 
ental  robe  and  spoke  with  the  ease  of  the  native. 

"You  have  come  a  long  way,"  he  said  to 
Aleppo,  smiling  again  in  a  familiar  manner,  and 
reclining  near  him.  "  I  am  sure  I  needed  you 
much." 

"  You  needed  me?"  replied  Romanes,  with  a 
slightly  astonished  inflection. 

"Understand,"  answered  El  Reshid,  "that 
everything  is  fair  in  philosophy,  the  exchange  is 
always  even.  Without  you,  I  should  have  suffered; 
we  give  for  what  we  get,  and  get  for  what  we 
give." 

"Yes,"  said  Aleppo,  who  grasped  it  instantly. 
There  seemed  no  need  of  explanation  between 
them. 

"  However,  you  must  have  had  some  definite 
object  in  coming;  you  desire  to  obtain,  I  presume, 
what  are  called  transcendant  powers. ' ' 

"  I  do.  I  would  learn  the  foimulas,  and  take  a 
short  cut  to  whatever  otherwise  might  require  a 
long  time.  But  on  one  condition  only  will  I  study 
with  you" — here  he  smiled  caressingly  at  El  Reshid, 
as  if  begging  him  to  excuse  his  apparent  egotism 
— ''and  that  is  that  my  individuality  remain  intact. 
/  am  /,  and  what  this  or  that  man  says,  to  me  is 
nothing  except  it  be  based  on  truth,  that  reveals 
itself  also.  Revelation,  inspiration,  assertion, 
though  vouched  for  by  a  Moses  or  a  Newton,  are 


430  EL  RESHID 

nothing  to  me  unless  Truth  stares  at   me  through 
their  eyes,  and  speaks  from  their  very  lips." 

While  Aleppo's  words  to  the  uninitiated  would 
have  sounded  cold  and  egotistic,  his  manner  was 
dignified  yet  humble,  and  somehow  appealed  to  El 
Reshid  in  a  remarkable  way. 

"You  would  be  the  ocean  grey-hound,"  he 
answered,  "  that  cuts  across  the  waves,  and  rushes 
straight  to  port  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind.  You 
scorn  that  rare  beauty  of  the  sea — the  full-rigged 
ship  that  rises  and  falls  to  the  rhythm  of  the  tide, 
and  singing  the  song  of  the  surging  deep,  its  sails 
taut  or  its  poles  bare,  runs  a  race  with  the  gale 
itself,  or  is  buffeted  about,  a  mere  pet  and  a  play 
thing  of  the  monster  that  treats  it  according  to  his 
moods.  Ah  !  you  would  transcend  law  and  master 
rhythm;  in  other  words,  become  a  god." 

"  I  would,"  said  Aleppo,  reverently  bowing  his 
head. 

' '  You  have  come  to  me  for  the  formulas  ?  ' ' 

"I  have." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other;  they  seemed 
peers — equals.  El  Reshid  was  a  pure  oriental, 
with  a  clear,  cream  tinted  skin  and  brilliant, 
passionate  eyes.  Romanes  with  his  strain  of  west 
ern  blood  was  wonderfully  fair,  and  his  glance 
while  quick  was  steady  as  is  that  of  a  young  sun. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  he  to  El  Reshid,  "  in  what  con 
sists  your  power;  by  what  means  did  you  acquire 
this  transcendentalism  by  which  you  overcome 


THE  MASTER  431 

rhythm  and  discover  counter-acting  laws?  How 
earned  you  the  title  of  "The  Master?'" 

At  this  series  of  questions  El  Reshid,  with  a 
smile  like  that  of  Romanes,  remained  silent  a  few 
moments,  and  no  sound  was  heard  save  the  ripple 
of  the  river,  which  scorned  silence  and  sang  in 
cessantly,  then,  in  slow,  decisive  language,  draw 
ing  a  little  near  to  Aleppo,  he  began: 

"You  speak  of  transcendentalism;  know,  then, 
that  in  the  finality  there  is  nothing  transcendental 
save  will.  To  be  sure,  we  apparently  overcome 
law  with  law,  upset  principle  with  principle,  but 
he  who  rejects  the  sovereignty  of  will  is  a  slave  of 
rhythm  and  a  puppet  of  fate.  listen  while  I  talk; 
lose  no  word,  for  to  one  like  you,  who  has  already 
learned  to  concentrate,  I  need  speak  this  truth  but 
once." 

He  leaned  back  against  a  column  of  the  little  re 
treat,  and  plucking  a  bit  of  fleur  de-lis  pulled  the 
leaves  to  bits  as  he  talked. 

THE  WIUv. 

"We  have  defined  Will  as  desire.  Will  pure 
and  simple,  being  an  inclination  in  a  certain  way, 
as  opposed  to  all  other  ways.  To  will  and  to  wish 
are  practically  the  same  thing,  as  you  understand, 
the  strength  and  weakness  lie  in  the  amount  of 
force  with  which  you  back  it.  This  force,  in  the 
finality,  is  different  in  different  individuals,  and 
also  in  a  single  individual  may  be  greater  or  less 


432  EL  RESHID 

according  as  he  exercises  his  Unit  Power.  So,  in 
ordinary  terminology  we  speak  of  a  strong  will 
and  a  weak  will,  as  Will  and  force  generally  go 
together.  But  in  subtle  analysis  we  distinguish 
Will  entirely  from  force:  as  man  may  wish  for  a 
thing  and  make  no  effort  to  acquire  it,  in  fact  back 
his  desire  by  no  energy,  except  that  required  to 
will.  You  may  sit  all  day  and  long  for  China,  but 
if  you  make  no  effort  to  get  there,  you  use  no 
amount  of  strength  to  back  your  Will;  more,  you 
may  ardently,  imploringly  desire  China,  at  the 
same  time  knowing  .your  energy  inadequate,  you 
use  no  force  in  that  direction.  You  may  be  a  cast 
away  on  a  desert  island,  with  no  timber  nor  means 
with  which  to  construct  a  boat,  yet  that  will  not  in 
the  least  prevent  you  from  longing  for  home  with 
a  heart-breaking  persistency.  Indeed,  it  is  often 
the  case  that  the  utter  impossibility  of  accomplish 
ing  an  object  makes  the  object  all  the  more  desired. 
A  thing  that  a  man  can  not  have  he  sometimes 
most  ardently  wants.  So,  then,  force  and  Will  are 
not  the  same  thing  as  we  define  the  latter. 

"  Coming  back  to  the  idea  that  Will  is  desire,  we 
get  into  the  subtleties.  If  you  prefer  green  to 
blue  and  desire  it  about  you,  why  is  this  ?  What 
leads  you  to  prefer  green  to  blue,  when  another 
prefers  the  latter?  Even  your  power  of  choice 
seems  to  be  backed  by  causation.  If  in  some  time 
past  you  became  accustomed  to  an  environment  of 
green,  having  lived  in  a  forest,  or  perchance  hav- 


THE  MASTER  433 

ing  been  confined  to  shaded  rooms  on  account  of 
weak  eyes,  where  a  green  light  became  a  necessity, 
you  got  accustomed  to  the  color,  and  have  grown 
on  that  account  to  love  it,  wherein,  then,  when 
you  delve  into  causes,  do  you  find  your  power  of 
choice  ?  Any  illustration  will  do;  take  your 
preference  in  any  direction,  your  liking  and  choos 
ing  of  certain  articles  of  food,  of  certain  localities, 
of  certain  people,  would  seem  to  result  from  evolu 
tion,  or  the  birth  of  cause  from  cause.  You  will 
be  startled  if  you  begin  to  trace  your  preferences  in 
this  way,  and  will  be  temporarily  shocked  into  be 
lieving  that  after  all  you  are  but  a  puppet  of  fate, 
which  allows  of  no  free  and  sovereign  Will;  that 
each  temporary  cause  having  a  preceding  one,  you 
are,  after  all,  not  choosing  anything,  but  sitting  on 
"the  lap  of  fate,  and  deluding  yourself  with  the  idea 
that  you  are  a  free  agent.  Even  your  opinions 
are  but  the  normal  children  of  previous  opinions, 
which  you  have  forgotten;  farther,  any  change  of 
opinion,  apparently  due  to  choice,  would  seem,  if 
you  trace  it,  to  be  brought  about  by  good  and 
sufficient  reasons,  by  which  you  are  forced  to  your 
present  position  in  all  honesty. 

"It  you  accept  the  creation  hypothesis,  and 
posit  a  beginning  for  yourself  anywhere,  at  any 
time,  you  are  forced  into  the  renunciation  of  free 
Will,  as  surely  as  you  are  compelled  to  drown 
when  the  water  persistently  covers  your  head. 
Start  a  cause  anywhere,  which  shall  farther  a 


434  EL  RESHID 

cause,  and  you  are  as  much  the  puppet  of  fate  as  is 
the  slave  a  tool  of  his  master.  The  ghastly  joke  of 
the  whole  matter  lies  in  the  fact  that  while  you  in 
reality  choose  nothing  you  seem  to  be  choosing 
everything;  and  man  resolves-  himself  into  a 
travesty  and  nothing  more. 

"  The  question  then  sifts  down  to  this:  Man  is 
absolutely  without  the  power  of  choice,  and  is 
forced  to  every  apparent  spontaneous  desire  by  a 
series  of  causes,  or  his  Will  is  absolutely  free,  and 
no  cause  affects  it.  Will  either  precedes  cause,  or 
is  the  result  of  cause.  If  the  second  proposition  be 
true,  a"ll  things  that  we  do,  we  are  forced  to  do, 
whether  they  be  evil  or  good  ;  murder,  theft,  lust 
are  as  much  a  part  of  our  existence  as  is  beauty 
and  altruism.  The  terrible  blunder  of  the  idea  of 
creation,  as  propounded  by  a  false  philosophy  is  that 
it  is  absolutely  self  contradictory,  giving  man, 
along  with  his  anthropomorphic  god  and  "  begin 
ning  in  time  "  a  Free  Will. 

"The  whole  strength  of  our  position  lies  in  this  : 
that  from  the  point  of  Unity  or  Beginninglessness 
there  is  no  cause  except  Will.  Should  you  start  to 
trace  by  causes,  you  could  never  stop,  except  at 
the  point  where  your  existence  begins.  Now  if 
it  begins ',  there  is  a  reason  for  its  beginning;  this 
would  be  the  First  Cause,  from  which  all  following 
causes  would  follow,  being  the  impetus  to  every 
choice  which  you  would  make  to  the  time  of  your 
death.  If,  on  the  contrary,  you  trace  back  to  no 


THE  MASTER  435 

First  Cause,  Will  being  primal  and  sovereign — the 
two  poles  of  being,  though  simultaneous,  yet  in  a 
sense  resultant — we  have  an  absolutely  free  and 
sovereign  Will,  in  itself  a  cause,  influenced  perhaps 
by  other  free  Wills,  but  never  forced,  because  of  its 
precedence  to  environment. 

"  We  must  then,  either  posit,  that  environment 
controls  Will,  or  that  Will  controls  environment ; 
one  of  these  positions  must  absolutely  be  main 
tained.  Modern  science  is  far  more  consistent  than 
the  (revealed?)  orthodox  religion,  because  it  (not 
as  yet,  in  most  cases,  admitting  endlessness  of 
individual  being)  practically  eliminates  free,  indi 
vidual  Will,  The  L/aw  of  Selection  resolving 
itself  into  apparent  freedom,  resulting  from  past 
causation. 

"  Note,  then,  the  philosophy  of  the  man,  who 
believes  in  free  Will,  must  be  diametrically  opposed 
to  that  of  one  who  believes  in  Kismet.  Recogniz 
ing  no  sovereignty,  he  practises  to  that  end,  even 
to  the  dominating  of  his  two  poles  of  being.  He 
finds,  that  whatever  the  cause  that  led  up  to  a 
thing,  that  he  can  change  that  liking  into  a  hate, 
by  Will,  pure  and  simple,  or  a  resolving  to  do  so, 
in  spite  of  all  environment  which  would  lead  to  the 
contrary.  But  you  say;  that  willing  to  do  so  must 
have  a  cause,  and  we  answer,  that  if  Will  is  the 
cause  of  itself,  YES.  In  other  words,  he  may  will 
to  will  to  do  so,  for  Will's  sake,  as  against  all 


436  EL  RESHID 

influences  of  environment;  in  other  words,  he  may 

will  to  te?t  his  Will. 
******* 

"  We  shall  bring  you  now  to  test  your  Will  by 
formulas,  and  lead  you  into  some  subtle  thought. 
You  must  now  be  trained  to  the  hardest  kind  of 

thinking,  and  the  most  rigid  exercise  of  Will. 
******* 

"  Nature  is  one  pole  of  being,  God  the  other  ; 
Variety  one  pole,  Unity  the  other;  the  Law  one 
pole,  the  laws  the  other.  The  laws  mean  tendencies, 
the  Law  of  them  Unity.  Will  is  Ego — desiring. 
Rhythm  is  a  necessity  of  God  and  nature,  or  Law 
and  laws." 

"  The  practice,  do  you  understand?"  said  El 
Reshid. 

"  I  would  ask  you,"  answered  Romanes,  ''how, 
if  all  things  are  eternal,  that  the  Will  precedes;  in 
other  words,  how  can  anything  become  if  all  things 
are?  " 

"  A  wise  question,"  replied  the  Master.  "  Know 
then,  that  in  the  bosom  of  the  eternal  all  things 
are  potential,  asleep,  simultaneous.  But  to  sum 
mon  these  out  of  Unity  into  variety  necessitates  the 
precedence  of  Will  or  desire,  for  it  is  one  attri 
bute  that  never  sleeps.  Manifestation  necessitates 
sequence,  and,  therefore,  time  and  space.  Event  fol 
lows  upon  c"esire.  Remember  then,  all  things  are, 
and  ever  shall  be,  though  in  variety  through  desire 
or  Will  we  marshal  them  one  at  a  time.  In  life, 


THE  MASTER  437 

then,  which  means  action,  expression,  Will  is  the 
Sovereign  Supreme." 

He  arose,  and  Aleppo,  conscious  that  the  lecture 
was  done,  saluted  El  Reshid  and  went  toward  the 
entrance.  As  he  reached  it  he  turned  about  once 
or  twice  and  looked  lovingly  at  his  teacher,  whose 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  him. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  El  Reshid. 

"  Romanes  smiled  in  his  rare  way,  and  saluting 
once  more,  vanished  amid  the  tangled  shrubs. 

The  Master  was  alone.  He  sat  in  an  attitude  of 
profound  thought  for  a  moment,  then,  passing 
quickly  from  the  garden,  sought  the  winding 
Arbana,  and  wandering  along  its  verdant  banks, 
addressed  the  river  as  though  it  were  an  ancient 
friend. 

"We  have  waited  long,  Abana;  one  after 
another  has  come  and  gone,  rejected  by  the  Order, 
unequal  to  the  test.  For  a  century  have  aspirants 
to  Olympus  sought  to  scale  the  heights  and  achieve 
the  apparently  inaccessible.  Alas!  in  the  track 
they  stumbled,  bleeding  and  wounded,  and  were 
carried  back.  It  was  left  for  a  Romanes  to  plant 
the  standard  of  the  Olympians  on  the  ice  peak  of 
pure  reason,  at  the  crater  of  the  volcano.  Not 
once,  through  the  terrible  ordeal  after  he  passed 
the  Propylon,  has  he  failed  or  stumbled.  We  have 
stood  aloof  in  agony  of  suspense,  and  watched, 
believing,  doubting,  hoping,  fearing.  Our  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him  though  he  knew  it  not.  Sick 


438  EL  RESHID 

unto  death  on  the  waste  of  Libya,  he  sought  Osiris, 
and  with  a  glance  on  the  blazing  Sirius  he  captured 
heaven.  By  the  side  of  the  Golden  Horn,  steeped 
in  luxury,  tempted  through  the  flesh,  he  shattered 
the  idols  of  Issachar  and  struck  a  terrible  blow  at 
the  legions  of  hell.  In  the  dungeon,  apparently 
forgotten,  isolate,  alone,  he  stormed  the  citadel  of 
reason,  and  destroyed  his  illusions  with  the  relent 
less  weapon  of  logic.  Beneath  the  gnarled  and 
ancient  tree  of  Joppa  he  solved  the  paradox  of  love 
and  the  mystery  of  heaven." 

El  Reshid  plucked  a  wild  rose,  as  he  spoke,  and 
cast  its  petals,  one  by  one,  upon  the  flashing 
stream. 

"Beloved  Abana,  we  have  waited  long." 


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